


Shouldn't

by Drakey



Series: With Apologies [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Being a father changes a man, Cedric Lives (but is fairly unimportant to the story), Celebrity News is Delivered by Vultures, Draco is Also a Silver-tongued Devil, Draco is Surprisingly Witty When He's Not Being a Dick, Hagrid has terrible coping mechanisms, Harry Tends to Scold People a Little Sometimes, Harry is Confused, Harry is a Hapless Idiot, Horrible reporters are rather voyeuristic, I have too much time on my hands, Let's play with the plot, M/M, Occasional Forays Into the Explicit, Rita Skeeter is a horrible reporter, Ron is a Ginormous Butthead, Tags subject to change at author's insane whims, Well-timed apologies, You might say his unimportance is why Cedric lives, only working on a partial outline, please read the notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-17
Updated: 2013-12-11
Packaged: 2017-12-26 20:50:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 41
Words: 56,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/970151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drakey/pseuds/Drakey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the second day of classes at Hogwarts,  Professor Moody crosses the line. Harry isn't exactly fond of Draco Malfoy (in that he has seriously thought about punching him in the nose once a week for three years), but being turned into a ferret and bounced around the halls is a bit much. Harry decides to tell Draco as much, and the confessions that follow lead to a tentative truce.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sorry About the Ferret Thing

**Author's Note:**

> I've seen some really awful Harry/Draco slash. Like, stuff that reads like coarse-grit sandpaper. What I've seen that was good honestly didn't have much plot, and definitely didn't have much exposition. I'm a writer trying to work on ways to improve my own skills, and since everyone else seems to have trouble with this concept, I figured I would give it a shot. I'm going to work from a single choice Harry makes that he doesn't make in the books, and we'll see where it goes (and how badly I foul up) from there.

"Teaching," said Moody.

"Teach--Moody, _is that a student_?" shrieked Professor McGonagall, the books spilling out of her arms.

"Yep," said Moody.

"No!" cried Professor McGonagall, running down the stairs and pulling out her wand; a moment later, with a loud snapping noise, Draco Malfoy had reappeared, lying in a heap on the floor with his sleek blonde hair all over his now brilliantly pink face. He got to his feet, wincing.

"Moody, we _never_ use Transfiguration as a punishment!" Professor McGonagall began, clearly on her way to a spectacular diatribe about appropriate conduct. Harry glanced over at Hermione. She was frowning at Professor Moody; a little line had etched itself into her forehead. 

Harry glanced back at Professor Moody, and followed his glare to Draco. Draco was still very, very pink, but he had smoothed his disordered hair down. The effect was actually pretty funny: as pale as Draco was, his hair seemed almost the precise color that his face normally was. He looked like he was blushing from a sharp line in the middle of his forehead on downwards. Despite himself, Harry felt a pang of sympathy. He could only imagine how Draco must have felt only a few moments before, helplessly bouncing up and down on the hard, cold stone floors. From the way he stood, the Slytherin was bruised and battered. He winced whenever he moved, and as Professor Moody dragged him away, Harry suppressed a frown. It was Draco, after all, and Draco deserved whatever he got.

Still, when Fred and George came up to try and joke around about the whole incident, Harry could only force himself to laugh. On the way up to the Gryffindor common rooms, he managed to hang back near Hermione. She was towards the back of the flow of students up the stairs, with her nose in a book and collisions with walls prevented only because she had memorized how the stairs moved and the halls shifted. 

Harry looked over at his bushy-haired friend and smiled. Always with her nose in a book. "Hermione," he said, "did that seem right to you? I mean, when Professor Moody turned Malfoy into a ferret?"

Hermione closed her book, sticking a finger into the page. "No, it didn't. I thought you and Ron would be laughing your heads off over it tonight in the common room. Did it bother you, Harry?"

Harry nodded. "I don't know why it should. He tried to hex me."

"But then it was just between you two," Hermione said. "Honestly, Harry, you act just like a schoolboy sometimes."

Harry waited for her to explain, and after a time, Hermione either relented or grew tired of his watching her. "You don't go to the teachers. I've never seen you even talk about going to Professor McGonagall."

"But it's not that Professor Moody did something. It's that it seemed so... cruel. It looked like Malfoy was actually hurt."

Hermione smiled fondly at him. "Figured out that he has feelings?"

+----+

Harry sat down in the Great Hall at breakfast the next day and picked at his food. He kept glancing up at Malfoy, and guilt seemed to be eating away at his insides. Ron seemed to have mistaken why he was glancing at the Slytherins, though.

"Maybe Moody'll turn him into a pig next," Ron laughed. "He's already enough like one, anyway."

Malfoy was glaring daggers at him the next time Harry looked up. He swallowed. "You know, Ron, it wasn't really all that funny. He could have really hurt him."

"Which would have been funny," Ron said in between mouthfuls of sausage.

"Draco is a prat, but he's not Voldemort," Harry said, ignoring the way Ron flinched at the name. "He doesn't deserve what Moody did to him."

"'Ure 'e does," Ron said. He swallowed and reached for another plate, this one heaped high with eggs. "He's _Malfoy_. He deserves whatever happens to him."

"What if Moody had killed him?" Harry said.

"It would have been amazing," Ron said.

Hermione made a noise of disgust. "It would have been someone dying," she said. 

"A prat dying," Ron started, but he stopped when Harry stood up. "Where are you going, Harry?" 

Harry shrugged. "I might as well say I'm sorry."

"For what?" Ron asked. "He tried to hex you!"

"I wasn't exactly polite to him, either."

"You didn't try to hex him," Ron pointed out helpfully. 

Harry rolled his eyes and walked over to the Slytherin table. The entire Great Hall went silent as his destination grew clearer. He kept listening for a pin to drop, as he was fairly sure he could have heard it from across the room. Malfoy continued to glare at him, although concern colored his expression as he watched Harry approach. His shoulders shifted slightly, and Harry made sure that his hands were obviously nowhere near his wand. Malfoy didn't relax one bit, but Harry kept walking, keeping his steps slow and steady. Finally, after what felt like a couple of years, he stood in front of Draco Malfoy, and the other boy stared at him, his face set and hard, grey eyes burning holes in Harry. Malfoy, it seemed, knew how to glare. Harry could imagine Lucius Malfoy giving his son glaring lessons, with proper glowering etiquette, and the appropriate techniques for an effective sneer.

"What do you want, Potter?" Malfoy jeered.

"I wanted to say I'm sorry," Harry said stiffly. He tried on a smile, but felt it withering under the combined disdain of the Slytherins. "For, um... for yesterday. Professor Moody shouldn't have done that to you."

Malfoy's eyes went wide, and then immediately narrowed. "What are you playing at, Potter?"

"Nothing," Harry said. "What I said to you about your mother was... it was out of line. And what Professor Moody did to you was wrong, and if I hadn't said what I did, he wouldn't have done it, so I'm sorry."

"Get away from me, Potter," Malfoy growled.

Harry's hands went up into the air. "All right. I'm sorry, just thought I'd be civil for once, but if you can't do that, then I suppose we'll go back to trying to hex each other in the corridors." He backed away from the Slytherins, and made his way back to the Gryffindor table under the watchful and very obvious scrutiny of everyone else in the entire school. As soon as he sat down between Ron and Hermione, everyone started talking at once. Looking up at the staff table, Harry thought he caught Professor Snape giving him a curious look, but he didn't have long to look, because Hermione had thrown her arms around him in a big hug and planted a kiss on his cheek. 

"That was very mature and grown-up of you," Hermione said, "even if he was rude about it."

Harry felt his face heating up, and he glanced sidelong at Hermione, smiling. He turned to speak to Ron, but Ron was applying himself thoroughly to a third helping of breakfast.

+----+

That evening, Harry, Ron, and Hermione took a quick stroll around the grounds before it was time to go up to the common rooms. Ron mostly spent the time abusing Draco Malfoy, but Harry was a bit distracted. Hermione was walking very close to him, and she kept grabbing at his hand. When they went inside, he almost didn't notice Malfoy standing off to the side. 

"Potter," Malfoy said.

Harry stopped short just inside the huge front doors of Hogwarts Castle. "Draco," he said.

Malfoy looked up at the ceiling, then he sighed. Crabbe and Goyle, the domesticated gargoyles he called friends, were nowhere to be seen. "Can I talk to you alone?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I give it twenty chapters before I hate this thing. Naturally, that will not stop me from writing, as Harry is difficult to write, and therefore a worthwhile challenge. It's so much easier when he's a paranoid, jaded (expletive deleted) who goes around obliviating innocent children and siccing aurors on eleven-year-olds.

"Alone?" Ron exclaimed indignantly. He shouldered Harry out of the way. Harry wouldn't have been surprised to see Ron putting up his fists, but that wasn't exactly what he needed right at that moment, so he dropped a hand onto his friend's shoulder and pulled him back.

"Ron, stop," Harry said.

"But he just wants to get you alone so he can... um..." There, Ron's powers of deduction failed him. He knew that Malfoy was not to be trusted, but he didn't know exactly why.

"If I were going to injure your precious little friend, I would hardly announce that I wanted to speak with him alone in front of witnesses," Malfoy drawled. "And the three of you put together would barely present an interesting challenge."

"He's right, Ron," Hermione said. "He's not going to do anything if there are witnesses who know where Harry was." 

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Very good Granger. Perhaps you ought to give her a mudblood treat, Potter."

Harry's eyes narrowed to slits. "All right, you two, go on."

Ron spluttered a protest, but Hermione dragged him away, and Draco Malfoy started off towards a side corridor. Harry followed in his wake. Despite Hermione's reassurances, he kept his hand in his pocket, wrapped around his wand. Malfoy took a few turns and corners, finally ducking into a dark alcove that Harry had never even passed before. It was so out of the way that the only people who came there were those who didn't want to be seen or heard. Malfoy drew out his wand, and Harry's grip on his own wand tightened, but the Slytherin just cast a spell down the corridor and nodded in satisfaction. He leaned against the wall and gave Harry an appraising look, frowning in concentration. His hair had drifted down a little, and he brushed it back from his forehead, then blew out a sigh. "Why did you apologize?"

Harry shook his head. _That_ was all Malfoy wanted? "Because I thought I owed you an apology."

Malfoy glared. "And you thought you would give that apology in front of everyone. I suppose you never thought of the consequences of your little display." His voice dripped disapproval, but the customary contempt was gone. "I couldn't very well have graciously accepted your apology without losing face with my housemates."

That had never occurred to Harry. He started to stammer out a reply, but Malfoy interrupted him. "I will make a deal with you, Potter. We'll have a truce. In fact, I'll even agree to be civil to you."

"Why?" Harry asked.

Malfoy shook his head. "Honestly, Potter, I'm tired of fighting with you. I meant it when I made that offer on the train in first year. We could have been friends."

Harry wasn't always the most insightful, but this was an easy enough leap to make. "You want to start over."

Malfoy turned a little pink. Once again, the color seemed to cut off right at his hairline. "Yes, but don't go bandying it about."

"Malfoy, that's ridiculous," Harry said evenly. "You hate me."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Yes, obviously I can't stand you. That's why we're having a pleasant conversation."

Harry blinked. "I can't believe this. You've been acting the prick for three years, and then I say I'm sorry to you once and you decide you want to be friends."

Malfoy shrugged, waving his wand. "People change, Potter," he said as he walked away. "Not a word about this to anyone. Not even Weasley and the Mudblood."

+----+

"Well, what did he want," Ron asked when Harry stepped through the portrait hole. 

Harry almost told the truth, but with the look Ron was giving him, he decided that maybe, in Ron's case, a comfortable lie would be better. "He warned me off talking to him at breakfast again. It was the usual Malfoy talk."

Hermione gave him a sympathetic look and gestured at one of the chairs at the table she was sitting at. Harry plopped down in the chair. Hermione had books spread out over the whole surface. One of them was turned towards Ron. Ostensibly, Ron was studying, but he clearly wasn't doing anything of the sort, his mouth slightly open as he stared blankly at the pages. Hermione smiled at Harry. "You should be studying," she said, turning a book towards him. Harry didn't really pay it much attention. Hermione's foot kept bumping his under the table, and Harry kept re-reading the same passage over and over again. Eventually, Ron declared he was going to bed and went up to the dormitories. Harry looked around. He and Hermione weren't quite alone, but there weren't a whole lot of other people with them. Ginny yawned and headed up to bed herself. 

Hermione closed her book. "It was very mature of you--"

"Malfoy wasn't just warning me--"

Harry and Hermione fell silent for a moment. Hermione laughed.

"Go ahead," Harry said.

Hermione smiled at him. "It was very mature of you to go and apologize to Draco Malfoy," she said. "I was really quite impressed, Harry. Neither you or Ron has showed that much maturity before."

Harry felt a blush rising up in his cheeks. "Well, he deserved an apology."

Hermione grinned at him. "You ought to wear something nice in Hogsmeade."

"Hogsmeade?"

Hermione nodded. "I've decided that, if you're going to behave... you know... well... I would like to go to Hogsmeade with you on the first weekend."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Well, of course we'll go to--"

"No, Harry. _With_ you."

Harry pondered that for a minute, and found himself smiling. When Hermione leaned over and kissed him, he forgot all about what Malfoy had really wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, Ron's gonna be pissed. Super pissed. Ultra, mega, giga-pissed.
> 
> Oh, and Draco is incredibly fun to write.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *yawn* I'm bored. I'll write about Harry Potter being a poorly directed bag of hormones with a screaming brain along for the ride.

When Harry woke up the next day, the events of the previous night came back to him and couldn't keep down a little grin. He had a girlfriend. He, Harry James Potter, had a girlfriend. Lavender Brown's giggling, and the Weasley twins' deliberately loud gagging noises, and all the snide comments anyone could possibly make did nothing to dampen his spirits, because he, Harry James Potter, was together with Hermione Granger. He stared up at the ceiling and tried to decide whether he was happier that he had gotten to snog someone, or that it was Hermione, who, after all, was one of his two best friends in the whole world, so, of course, she would be the perfect girlfriend for him. 

Even as he thought of how great it was that he was getting to date one of his best friends, the other one of his best friends came into the dormitory.

"Harry," Ron said. He didn't sound like he was happy, so Harry sat up, grinning.

"Ron! You'll never believe what happened last night!"

Ron glared at him. "I think I already have a handle on it, thank you," he growled. "It's always got to be you, doesn't it?"

Harry felt his smile slither down to a concerned scowl. "What are you talking about?"

Ron stalked angrily over to his bed and started pulling school robes out of his trunk. He was still in his pajamas. His motions were quick, sharp, and angry. "You get all the attention, because you're famous Harry Potter! You get to be the seeker on the quidditch team!" He had trousers, a shirt, and a robe in his hands, and he pulled out a pair of somewhat tattered boxers. "Well, congratulations, you got the girl, too."

Harry gaped at his best mate. "Ron, I'm not the one who--"

Ron ignored him, turned, and walked out of the dormitory. Harry stared after him.

+----+

Hermione frowned over at Ron, shaking her head. "He's just jealous. He'll get over it."

"He ought to be happy for me," Harry said. Ron was sitting at the opposite end of the Gryffindor table from him and Hermione. Ginny sat with her older brother, and they were both looking over at Harry and Hermione from time to time. "He ought to be happy for both of us." Harry picked sullenly at his oatmeal. He looked over at the Slytherins for lack of anywhere better to look. Draco Malfoy was watching him speculatively, his eyes watchful under flawlessly-styled blonde hair. When Harry met his eyes, Draco busied himself with his own food, blushing unaccountably. The blush, as before, stopped at his hairline.

"Ginny's not going to be happy with me, I suppose," Hermione said.

"She's not?" Harry said. "Why?"

Hermione mumbled something indistinct and went back to her food. Harry looked back up at Malfoy and caught his eyes flashing back down to his plate. Breakfast, which Harry had had half-formed and optimistic ideas for, wasn't the congratulation-riddled occasion he had been picturing. Instead of laughing with Ron and Hermione, he was picking at his food and trying not to seem as angry with Ron as he actually was. He was grateful when the meal ended and classes began. 

The first class was History of Magic, and Harry spent it glaring at the back of Ron's head. After that, it was off to double potions with the Slytherins. Malfoy cast a quick glance at him, and Harry shrugged at him. Hermione gripped his hand. They hung back behind most of the group. "What about Malfoy?" Hermione asked.

Harry watched thoughtfully as Draco Malfoy stepped into the Potions classroom, waved in by professor Snape. "I suppose I ought to talk to him." In a hushed voice, and no more than a couple of inches from her ear, Harry managed to convey the whole story of his conversation with Malfoy the night before, aided and abetted, albeit unwittingly, by Neville Longbottom, who had somehow turned a simple potencia potion into a cauldron full of glowing white sludge. 

"That is your sixth cauldron, Longbottom," Snape drawled angrily (Harry had never heard anyone else drawl angrily). "Six cauldrons in three years. I have never seen a more hopeless example of precisely what a potionmaker should not be. Detention, tonight, with me."

While Snape tore into Neville, Harry scrawled a note on parchment. The Slytherins were enjoying the show, so none of them noticed when Harry used a hover charm to get his folded note precisely into Malfoy's pocket. It was a neat piece of spellwork, and Hermione kissed him on the cheek. "Nicely done, Harry," she said.

+----+

When Neville came back from his detention that night, Harry was ready. He slipped out under his invisibility cloak. Hermione winked as she stood up to go and help Neville. Notes exchanged throughout the Potions lesson had led to a plan. Harry clutched his Firebolt in one hand and the Marauders' Map in the other, and he took a winding path down the corridors, avoiding the dots that indicated teachers. Moody didn't seem to be in the school anywhere, but if half of the whispers Harry had heard about him were true, he might easily be able to hide even from the Map.

Harry arrived outside of the Slytherin common room and leaned against the wall. After a moment, a section of the wall slid back, and Draco Malfoy slipped out into the corridor. He looked one way and then the other as the wall closed behind him. Harry stepped up to him and pulled back the hood of the cloak. 

"Aargh!" Malfoy shouted, and Harry's hand flashed up to his lips.

"Ssh! It's just me. You said to meet you here."

Malfoy glared at him. "Oh. So it's an invisibility cloak? Took me by surprise, Potter."

Harry grinned at him and swung the edge of the cloak over him, consulting the Marauders' Map to see that the coast was clear. 

"Is that how you know where the Slytherin common room is?" Malfoy asked, peering at the map.

"No," Harry said. "You showed me a while back."

"I did what?" Malfoy was surprisingly warm at such close quarters, as though he ran a degree or two hotter than anyone else Harry had shared the cloak with.

"I'll explain later," Harry said. He started off to his destination.

"So you never told me where you were going to take us," Malfoy said.

Harry watched him out of the corner of his eye. "To the Chamber of Secrets," Harry said.

Malfoy's jaw dropped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I knew I was going to have to start writing Harry eventually. Anyone with any insights on how badly I'm screwing him up can feel free to let me know; thanks to his overwhelming blandness, Harry is going to be the toughest character to write until he actually starts feeling ways about things.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, god... Moaning Myrtle. i honestly sorta forgot about her.
> 
> So this is shaping up to be the first multichapter scene, which makes sense, because it's also the one where I'm going to do the most early playing with character development and working out the dynamic between Harry and Draco.

"I'm sorry, Potter," Draco Malfoy said. "I could swear you just said we're going to the Chamber of Secrets." He shuffled along after Harry, forced into an awkward gait by the Gryffindor's movement. "But of course, you couldn't have said that, because that would be totally ridiculous."

"I don't see why it would," Harry replied as Malfoy caught up to him. "As I'm the only person who can get into it, we won't be caught out of bounds after curfew, and I'm sure you'd want to see it."

"Come up with that on your own, Potter, or did you have to ask a teacher for help?" Malfoy said acidly. Harry started turning back towards the Slytherin common room, and Malfoy winced. "All right, I'm sorry, Potter." He frowned down at the ground. "Harry. I'm sorry." 

Harry didn't move for a moment. "You just called me Harry."

"Well, yeah, It's your name," Draco began sarcastically, then bit off his words, going pink. Harry caught himself grinning at the view Malfoy's discomfiture afforded him; in close quarters, the sharp cutoff of color was more noticeable, even in the minimal light of post-curfew Hogwarts. His own ears colored a bit, and Harry started back towards the Chamber.

"I came up with it on my own," he said. "I'd rather try to have conversations where we can talk freely for more than a few minutes than skulk around under the cloak all night. It gets to your back."

"That actually makes sense," Malfoy--Draco--said. "Well done, Pot--Harry. I'm impressed."

Harry smiled to himself and held out his Firebolt. "I even made sure we had a way out."

Draco chuckled dryly. "Oh, good. We're off to an excellent start."

He lapsed into silence as Harry led him through the corridors. It could have been a sullen, angry silence, and with Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy under the confining restriction of the invisibility cloak together, it should have been. Instead, they walked along in an almost companionable hush until Harry turned unexpectedly off into moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Draco pitched nearly over as he tried to keep going. Everything but his head slipped out from under the cloak, which caught on him and dragged him over to the side. His balance went and he staggered towards Harry, flinging his arms out. Harry managed to keep upright, but Draco's momentum had him slamming into the doorframe. Harry's head hit with a sharp report and a dull cry from Harry. A moment later, Draco's stagger sent him headfirst into Harry's gut. Harry bent over double, and they both wound up on the floor, with the cloak puddling down, luckily, over them. At Harry's loud thunk and yell, there was a splashing sound, and as Harry and Draco pulled themselves into a more normal sitting position, Moaning Myrtle glided out of her stall towards them.

"Is somebody there?" she said. She peered all around, her gaze flitting several times across where Harry and Draco sat, invisible. Draco was determinedly looking anywhere but at Harry. His face was bright red. "Oh, that's just fine," Myrtle said. "Come in and make noises. 'Myrtle is a ghost, nothing ought to frighten her!' Well, that doesn't mean you can--"

"Myrtle, please don't," Harry hissed. Myrtle stopped in the middle of her buildup to what would have been a truly outstanding rant. "It's me, Harry Potter. I'm under an invisibility cloak, and I've brought a..." he glanced at Draco, thought over several words, and decided to put it hopefully. "A friend."

"Harry Potter?" Myrtle said.

"Yeah," Harry said. "Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you, we just took a spill, is all. You won't tell anyone we were here, will you?"

"You came to see me?" Myrtle said excitedly.

"Er," Harry said.

"Harry was just telling me how amazing your bathroom is," Draco said brightly. "I didn't really believe him, but he was right. It's very, very gloomy. You can't really get the full effect in the daytime."

"I know!" Myrtle cried.

Draco dragged himself to his feet, catching Harry by the hand to lift him and giving him a little wink.

"Er," Harry said again, but this time, he managed to push a few words out behind it. "Right, and the coolest feature of your room." He left the cloak behind and walked confidently over to the sink that concealed the Chamber's entrance. He gripped his Firebolt a little tighter, glared at the snake etched onto the tap, and hissed in parseltongue, " _open_." The entrance slowly rolled back while Myrtle hovered nearby.

"Thanks for letting us in," Draco said from somewhere immediately behind Harry and a bit to his right. Harry peered down into the little stone-walled tunnel that led beneath the school. The walls still glistened with slime, though he thought they looked a bit dryer.

Harry held out the Firebolt, and mounted up. He felt the unfamiliar dip of someone else getting on behind him, and Draco's hands came around to clasp his shoulders. "It was, er, nice to see you again, Myrtle," Harry lied. He flew down towards the chamber, and heard it slowly grinding shut above him as he made a slow, controlled descent, rather than a screaming, sliding one like he had the first time. Draco pulled the cloak off and handed it around to Harry. With his other hand, he pointed his wand forward.

"Lumos," Draco muttered. Wandlight swept ahead of the pair of them, and when Harry finally reached the bottom of the rock slide, he took the turns he remembered so well from his second year. At the familiar door with the carved snakes, Harry said " _open_ " once again, and the door writhed open.

A dry smell, thick with stagnant rot, rolled out of the Chamber of Secrets. It reminded Harry of the time Dudley had stolen an entire package of sliced turkey from the refrigerator and kept it under his bed. It had been a couple of very dry weeks, and when Dudley's two forgotten slices of turkey were finally unearthed, they were about the consistency of a stale crisp, if a good bit thicker. The smell they exuded hadn't been too different from the one flooding out of the Chamber of secrets now. Harry stared into the murky wandlight. The basilisk lay where it had fallen more than a year earlier, dessicated and hollowed by time. Slytherin's monster had mummified.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a few notes: Presumably, any sensible schoolmaster would blast into the Chamber of Secrets and close it off, but we know already, thanks to Deathly Hallows, that Dumbledore (ha, Firefox recognizes that as a word. Rawkin) didn't do that. One wonders a bit at the fact that Harry didn't use the Chamber as headquarters for the DA in fifth year, until one considers the presence of what would have to be the most wildly toxic corpse imaginable. As this scene is actually rather important to Draco continuing to not loathe Harry, I elected to be uncharacteristically merciful to a character, and the cloud of rotstank that washes over Harry and Draco here is from a very rapidly mummified giant snake. 
> 
> Pro-tip: if you should kill a basilisk, especially one that is as freakishly long as Slytherin's monster, do not approach the corpse again after it has had a chance to rot even if this happens in open air. Certainly don't do it if it was killed in a confined space. Basilisks are so poisonous it isn't even funny, and there will be a fogbank of death around it.
> 
> As for the entrance closing behind them... yeah, I bullshat that one. I figured a big, gaping hole was a bit of a giveaway to any passing teacher, and as there's only one possible suspect for that...
> 
> As before, any feedback you can give me on how horribly I'm screwing up the characters is appreciated.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Draco is easily the most fun to write in this so far.

It wasn't, Harry told himself firmly, depressing to see the basilisk lying dessicated on the ground. The statue of Salazar Slytherin stood over the hulking corpse like a hunter gloating over his prey. 

"Wow," Draco breathed softly. He pressed forward into the chamber, looking around. His breathy exclamation whispered back from the walls, and Harry followed him in.

Some rebellious part of Harry must have actually _liked_ Draco, because he caught himself thinking that the effort of coming down here was worth it to see this reaction from the Slytherin. "Impressed?" Harry said, more to fill the silence than anything else. Draco barely seemed to hear him. His head couldn't seem to sit still; it pivoted every which way, inspecting first one thing, then another and another and another, drinking in every detail of the chamber's construction. Harry stepped up next to Draco, and Draco reached up and put a hand on his shoulder. Harry turned and found a pair of grey eyes staring at him with obvious gratitude.

"Potter, this is incredible," Draco said. "I never thought I would get to see this place." He looked sadly at the basilisk, and okay, so maybe it was a little depressing, and he sighed. "It's a shame you had to go and kill it."

Harry walked across the floor. The last time he was in the Chamber of Secrets, it had been wet, but that must have been a temporary condition. Certainly the basilisk had been dry enough to mummify, although, on closer inspection, the parts of it that actually rested on the floor were much less well-preserved. The head was a rotted-out ruin. Harry stepped closer. Draco's footsteps echoed behind him. Harry reached out. His hand stopped about an inch from the nearest fang. Dried venom still clung to it.

"Is that where you fell when it bit you?" Draco asked. 

Harry looked down. A diffuse brownish stain was spread across the floor beneath the basilisk. "Must be," Harry said. He reached up and rubbed the spot on his shoulder where the fang had sunk into him. "I forgot how much I bled."

"Do you still have a scar?"

Harry pulled down on the collar of his shirt, exposing his shoulder. The puckered scar from the basilisk's fang drew a low hiss from Draco. Harry let his shirt come back up to its normal position, and Draco tore his eyes away from Harry and cast them up towards the statue of Slytherin. 

"He was amazing. The first parselmouth, designed the whole school, founded Slytherin House, went on to be the headmaster of Durmstrang, defeated Betelgeuse Algol in single combat..."

"Slytherin didn't design Hogwarts himself," Harry objected.

"Yes he did," Draco said. "He was the architect who came up with the design. Hufflepuff designed the interiors, Gryffindor built the defenses, and Ravenclaw cast the wards. Have you ever even picked up 'Hogwarts: A History'?"

Harry made an unsuccessful attempt to hold back laughter. Draco gave him a petulant look. "I'm sorry, but that was just... Hermione says that all the time."

A shadow crossed briefly over Draco's expression. "Granger?" he said.

Harry nodded. "Whenever Ron and I... er..." He sighed, and to his surprise, Draco frowned. 

"Is something wrong, Harry?"

Harry almost leaned back against the basilisk before he stopped himself. He paced over to a pillar and sat down at its base, looking up for a moment at the snakes carved on its sides. "Ron's not talking to me. He's mad because I'm dating Hermione."

Draco came over and sat next to Harry. He put an arm over Harry's shoulder, not without a little awkwardness and a lot of hesitation. When it became clear that Harry wasn't going to say anything more, Draco filled up the quiet. "You know, I can't really call that all that much of a loss. Honestly Harry, he's a bit of a prat."

Harry's first instinct was to rail against Draco's assessment. He tensed, and Draco paused, but when the tirade didn't come, the Slytherin continued on. "If you think about it, You never had a fight with me where Weasley wasn't involved." At Harry's skeptical look, Draco's free hand (the hand that wasn't squeezing Harry's shoulder, and how strange was _that_?) patted the air to wave away any snarky comments. "I know, I'm the one who said a lot of the nasty things, but anytime it got violent, it was Weasley."

"Except that time you tried to hex me in the Great Hall," Harry pointed out with a sly smile.

Malfoy turned pink up to where his hair hid it. "Well, you'd got to me," he said in a small voice, then he continued on, more normally, "And I think I got my punishment for that." He looked back up at the statue again, squeezed Harry's shoulder, and started in on Ron once more. "Anytime I wasn't the one who started it, it's always been Weasley, too. You and Granger never came up to me and started having a go at me for no reason."

Harry looked at the floor, or the wedge of it visible between his knees. "You're right," he said. "but he's a really loyal bloke, and he's solid."

Draco kept watching him. Harry felt himself doing his best to duplicate Draco's blush. "All right, maybe not always... totally loyal." He sighed. "Anyway, I can't just give up on him. He's my best mate."

"Really?" Draco said. "I always sort of assumed he was your worst mate."

Harry winced, but when Draco didn't press the issue, he let himself enjoy the quiet. It was pleasant enough, sitting there with Draco. Only a week ago, he never would have considered being anywhere alone with Malfoy, and now, he'd just spilled his guts to him, and it felt... it felt damn strange, but that wasn't exactly unpleasant. It was just _new_ , and nobody else but Hermione knew. It was secret, hidden and unguessed-at, something that only the people he told could know about. In the morning, they would go back to pretending not to be able to stand each other, but here, they were friends, and they could be friends without anyone else knowing it.

Draco laughed.

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"It's so isolated here," Draco said, started to echo Harry's thoughts. "We could have really loud sex, and no one would ever know."

It was Harry's turn to start laughing. His shoulders shook as he hovered on the edge of cackling. "You..." he gasped, "and me..." He doubled over, barely breathing out the words through his laughter, "...sex..." he managed at last. Draco's arm withdrew from over Harry's shoulder. Harry finally recovered. "As though I could... with you..." 

Draco frowned. "All right, you don't have to insult me." He stood up and marched over to Harry's Firebolt. "I think I'd like to go back up to the common room."

"Come on, Draco, you have to admit it's funny," Harry said, getting to his feet. "The idea of the two of us--"

"Drop it, Potter," Draco snapped.

Harry frowned, and Draco sighed. "I'd rather not think about that," he said icily.

Harry blinked. "Yeah. Um, right. Sorry, Draco. I'll take you back up."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hm. Methinks the Slytherin doth protest too much. 
> 
> On the other hand, you all thought they were gonna snog, so, ha, fooled ya.
> 
> ...yeah, there's a ways to go before that...
> 
> Anyway, Harry will not stop jamming that foot down his mouth for quite some time, but at least we're out of the chamber. That qualifies as a very long scene for me. Anyways, now that I've actually got some of the way they'll interact figured out, I can write this thing more confidently.
> 
> As usual, any feedback would be appreesherated.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally out of the Chamber of Secrets. 
> 
> FINALLY!
> 
> Now to paraphrase and quote the book itself!

Harry got down to breakfast late the next day, not that he was unhappy about it. Hermione had stopped him in the common room, and they'd gotten... distracted. Harry had gotten a good feel of his girlfriend's backside, so there was that to be happy and look smug about, and there was Moody's first lesson to look forward to, so Harry was flush with anticipation (although he wasn't sure if he was anticipating good things or bad ones). When he sat down, he got a good look at the Slytherin table. Draco must have watched him come in, because Harry caught him just looking down at his breakfast, turning slightly pink. He looked angry. Harry sighed.

"Is something wrong?" Hermione asked.

Harry shrugged. "Last night didn't exactly end on a great note. I think I might have put my foot in it a bit. Draco made this off-color joke about... well, I think I insulted him a little."

Hermione heaved a sigh of her own. "Maybe he'll keep not being horrible, anyway. It's been nice to have a bit of a break from it."

Harry nodded, then picked at his eggs. They were over easy, which wasn't his favorite way of doing eggs, but he didn't care much. "Hermione, do you think Ron's a prat?"

"Sometimes," Hermione said. "Why?"

"Well, it's just, Draco pointed out last night that Ron's always been a bit of a prat to him, and... I couldn't come up with an argument. Ron _has_ always been about as horrible to Draco as he was to us. Insulted him, picked fights... I never really looked at it from Draco's perspective before."

Hermione seemed to take a few moments to contemplate this. "I..." she began, but the words seemed to get stuck in her throat.

Harry could certainly understand that.

+----+

Professor Moody's lesson was one of the most intense experiences Harry had ever been through. He kept shouting "CONSTANT VIGILANCE" at odd moments, and he lectured on the Unforgivable Curses as though there was a dark wizard around every corner, waiting to Imperius the unwary. He demonstrated them on spiders taken out of jars, and he seemed almost to delight in watching the students' reactions. When he showed the killing curse, he watched Harry. Harry, for his part, hadn't been able to suppress a shudder at the sight. His own parents, after all, had been killed in the same way. Neville, too, seemed to be somewhat affected. When Moody demonstrated the Cruciatus Curse, which caused pain so terrible it could drive people insane, on a spider, Neville had stared in abject horror at the poor creature. 

Hermione urged Harry forward quickly as they walked out of the classroom with the other students' comments on the lesson in their ears. most of them seemed to think the lesson had been a spectacular show, but Harry wasn't so entertained. Apparently, though, Neville was even less entertained. He stood a little way down the corridor, staring at the blank stone wall with precisely the same horrified eyes that had watched Moody torture the spider. 

"Neville?" Hermione said softly.

Neville gave a slight twitch as he turned to look at her. "Oh, hello," he said in a high, fragile tone. "Interesting lesson, wasn't it? I wonder what's for dinner, I'm--I'm starving, aren't you?"

"Neville, are you all right?" Harry asked.

"Oh, yes, I'm fine," Neville said, but his tone seemed to say otherwise. "Very interesting dinner--I mean lesson--what's for eating?"

"Neville," Harry began, but an odd clunking sound had his head turning before he could formulate any more of his question. 

Professor Moody was limping up behind Harry and Hermione, his wooden leg tapping out a regular clunking on the stone floor. All three students fell silent, watching him draw nearer, but when he spoke... well, it was still a growl, but it was a softer, gentler, _kinder_ growl than the one that usually escaped his throat. 

"It's all right, sonny," he said to Neville. "Why don't you come up to my office? Come on... we can have a cup of tea..."

Neville didn't precisely seem comforted by the prospect so much as scared out of his wits (which Harry could certainly understand), and he didn't move or say anything. Moody's magical eye swiveled to skewer Harry with an electric-blue gaze.

"You all right, Potter?"

"Yes," Harry said, an edge of defiance coloring his voice.

Moody's eye quivered slightly in its socket. "You've got to know. It seems harsh, maybe, _but you've got to know_. No point pretending... well... come on, Longbottom, I've got some books that might interest you."

Neville gave Harry and Hermione a frightened look as he was swept away by the defense professor, and Harry felt a pang of sympathy for his classmate. Hermione frowned. "I'm going to the library," she declared after a moment. Harry's stomach growled. "After dinner," Hermione added.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh right, the original plot of the actual book!
> 
> Anyway, it seems as though Draco is a titch mad at Harry. If only Harry were a little better at figuring people out.   
> Can anyone tell that I'm not actually very fond of Harry?
> 
> Anyway, after this chapter, we're probably looking at a bit of skipping ahead, or possibly at spending a little bit of time with the blast-ended skrewts and then skipping ahead a bit. Obviously, my goal isn't to re-tell the entire book. If it was, I'd have wasted two chapters on Pseudo-Moody being incredibly mean to some poor, defenseless spiders. 
> 
> A comment or two on the tags: "Harry Potter & Ron Weasley" is up there because their friendship is an important plot element. That doesn't mean that they'll spend a whole lot of time being the best of friends. I really can't see that happening in Harry/Draco slash. Ron is too temperamental and stubborn, and with the amount of his shit that Draco is not willing to take, well...
> 
> Also, the fact that this is Harry/Draco doesn't mean that Harry and Draco will start screwing each other's brains out any minute now. The fact is that there are several chapters to go before Harry gets anything more than a lot of snogging with Hermione in the common room (and yes, he will get laid; everyone in this story is, to borrow a phrase from another of my HPworld characters, a poorly directed bag of hormones with a screaming brain along for the ride).
> 
> Yes, this is going to get incredibly complicated for everyone involved. 
> 
> Yes, it's going to be hard on Harry.
> 
> And yes, anyone who manages to figure out exactly where I'm going with all this gets an internet-cookie.
> 
> As always, comments are encouraged. Happy hunting!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost wrote this chapter from Draco's perspective, but it just refused to come together that way, and also, Sirius's letter in the beginning is kinda important.

Hermione was just beginning to expound upon some project involving house-elves when Hedwig rescued Harry, tapping at the window to be let in. Since Harry was under the impression that most house-elves were actually quite happy with their lot in life, he hadn't been looking forward to wearing a badge with the letters S.P.E.W. written across it (in point of fact, even if he had agreed completely with Hermione's assessment of the need for Elfish Welfare, he had a hard time keeping a straight face at the acronym). Hedwig, therefore, was a welcome distraction from a potential argument with his girlfriend. 

"Hedwig," he cried, rushing to let her in the window. "It's about time!"

The owl fluttered to the windowsill, and Harry looked her over. There was a parchment tied to her leg, and Harry untied it and sat down to read. Everyone else was out of the common room by then, so he wasn't too concerned, even though the message could only be from Sirius. He had sent Hedwig to his godfather what felt like ages ago with news about a peculiar dream from which he'd awoken with his scar hurting. He read the reply aloud. 

_Harry--  
I'm flying north immediately. This news about your scar is the latest in a series of strange rumors that have reached me here. If it hurts again, go straight to Dumbledore--they're saying he's got Mad-Eye out of retirement, which means he's reading the signs, even if no one else is.  
I'll be in touch soon. My best to Ron and Hermione. Keep your eyes open, Harry._

_Sirius_

Harry had barely recovered from wincing at the mention of Ron when Hermione declared in open astonishment, "he's gone mental! He's coming _back_?"

Harry's grimace deepened as it occurred to him that his godfather was about to put himself into fairly serious danger for his sake alone. "I shouldn't have told him," Harry said. "He's coming back because of me."

Hermione's eyes widened at that, and she hurried over, planting a kiss on his cheek. "Harry, no, you read the letter. That's just the latest thing he's heard. It can't be all because of you."

Harry wasn't convinced. He stared sullenly at Hedwig, who was clearly angling for an owl treat. "I haven't got anything for you," he said, distracted and made harsh by it. "You'll have to go up to the Owlery if you want food."

Hedwig glared daggers at him and fluttered out the window, taking care to hit him in the head with her wing as she left. Harry grunted irritably. "I'm going to bed," he said.

When he got up to the dormitory, Harry looked over at where Ron lay flat on his stomach. He had no idea how to even begin to tell Sirius what had been going on with Ron and with Draco. "Why can't it be simple, just once?" Harry complained.

+----+

The next day, Harry woke up early, went to go send a message to Sirius to tell him to stop worrying about him (it took him a while to convince Hedwig to come down and consent to carry the letter), and then hurried to breakfast. When Hermione asked where he had gone, he told her what he had done, and she gave him a look of mild outrage. "That was a _lie_ Harry! You most certainly did not _imagine_ your scar hurting!"

"So what?" Harry said. "He's not going back to Azkaban because of me."

"Maybe he really ought to be closer, Harry," Hermione replied in low tones. "Sirius is an experienced wizard, and I imagine he'll be able to help if he's close enough."

"So you want him up here, dodging aurors?" Harry snapped.

Hermione looked profoundly hurt at that, and she fired back. "No, of course not. Don't be stupid, Harry."

Harry felt like he might be about to yell at her, so he muttered an excuse and moved down the table a bit, pulling out a book to study from.

+----+

"Trouble in paradise, Potter?"

Harry looked up. Draco was hurrying to come up even with him on the way to Hagrid's Care of Magical Creatures lesson. Not that Harry was in all that much of a hurry, himself. Hagrid had them caring for something he called "blast ended skrewts," which, as far as Harry could tell, existed only to be horrible and to explode themselves across their boxes at random. 

"What?" Harry said.

"It's only, I saw you arguing with Granger this morning, and I was just hoping you hadn't had a row with her or anything." The look on Draco's face was about as insincere as it could get for a moment before he schooled himself into a more neutral look.

"Oh, come on, Draco, are you really hoping my girlfriend's split up with me because I insulted you? _Accidentally_ insulted you!" Harry huffed. Given how his day had been going so far, he could easily have worked himself up into a good rant if Draco hadn't chosen that moment to look hurt, in nearly the same way as Hermione had when Harry made his crack about Sirius dodging aurors. 

"No, Harry," Draco said. 

Harry glared at Draco. "Then why are you so happy we had a row?" The wind shifted, blowing Draco's hair around a bit. Harry caught a whiff of what must have been a scent Draco was wearing; it was an odd smell, but definitely a pleasant one. Polished wood, plums, and treacle tart all suggested themselves to Harry's mind.

Draco sighed, pulling Harry's attention back to the conversation. "All right, the honest truth is that I've never been particularly fond of Granger. I think you could probably do better."

"Better? Draco, Hermione's brilliant. She's the reason I don't fail classes."

Draco rolled his eyes, and the familiar blush crept up to his hairline. "No she's not. You're better than you think you are, Harry." 

Before Draco could elaborate on that thought, Crabbe called out to him, and Harry couldn't suppress a little grin as he watched Draco's face slip from slightly embarrassed earnestness to contemptful dismissal. Draco made some generically rude comment as he hurried back to the Slytherins, and then it was off to Skrewts and the various burns and scrapes that accompanied them. Every once in a while, Harry would look up and catch Draco flashing him a smile. 

"Mended your bridges with him?" Hermione asked.

Harry nodded, feeling inordinately pleased with himself, given that it was Draco who had moved to patch things up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Draco, you little liar... Well, okay, yes, so you dislike Hermione, but your reasons are deliberately vague and ill-defined. 
> 
> Anyways, there's a pleasant little note to leave off on. Harry and Draco are friends again, and basically everything from here until the foreign students arrive is filler and character building.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long one today. Not really worth separating out into two really short chapters, and hey, I'm explaining why Draco smells funny.

Harry watched Draco from across the Great Hall. The ceiling was sunny today, which fit his mood well enough. He and Hermione had had a sort of date, as much of one as could be had in Hogwarts, anyway, the day before. She had taken a bit of convincing; Harry had had to promise to study with her later. He grinned enthusiastically at Draco, and Draco flashed him a smile of his own, then turned his eyes back down to his plate and started talking to Pansy Parkinson. After nearly a week, Harry was finally almost accustomed being friends with Draco, but that didn't necessarily mean he was going to go hanging about with him. Neither the rest of the Gryffindors nor the Slytherins, nor anyone else in the school knew that he was friends with Draco.

He hadn't brought Draco down to the Chamber of Secrets again. That, Harry figured, ought to be a rare trip. For one thing, it was far too easy to lose track of time down there. When he got back after their one visit together, Harry had been surprised by how long he had been out of the common room. He did have a few ideas, though, and since he had a Potions lesson with Draco today, a little bit of judicious note passing should complete the arrangements.

Breakfast ended, and Harry caught another smile from Draco. He'd never even known that Draco _could_ smile before, and was honestly surprised by how nice of a smile it was. They maintained their distance on the way to class. Draco chatted with Theodore Nott, and Harry split his conversation between reassuring Neville that his new cauldron looked sturdy and whispered conference with Hermione about how he would get out of the common room to meet with Draco that night.

They arrived at the Potions classroom, and Professor Snape let everyone in. Harry supposed it was too much to hope for Neville to melt another cauldron, and, of course, he didn't, so Harry had to get clever with how he passed notes. Somewhere in the back of his head, he hoped Draco was impressed, since his getting clever seemed a bit Slytherin-ish to him.

+----+

Harry blinked down at the Marauders' Map. Hermione had snuck him out of the common room easily enough, but he should have met up with Draco by now. The only problem was that Professor Dumbledore was wandering the halls. 

Well.

 _Wandering_ implied a good deal more aimlessness than Dumbledore was displaying. Harry had started to suspect that the professor knew where he was after the third time Dumbledore took a path that blocked Harry's way. This was the seventh time, and Harry sighed and stopped trying to evade the Headmaster. Instead, he went towards where Dumbledore waited. The Headmaster stood in the center of the corridor, his long, white beard seeming almost to glow in the gentle light of Hogwarts at night. Harry knew from experience that his invisibility cloak wouldn't take him undetected past Professor Dumbledore, but he made a try for it anyway. 

"Hello, Harry," Professor Dumbledore said.

Harry stopped short, his attempt to sneak past the professor halted before it began. 

"Er, hello, Professor," Harry replied.

Dumbledore smiled. "I wonder, Harry, what could motivate you to be out of your common room. It seems as though you are headed towards the dungeons."

Harry swallowed. "I am," he said. He tried for a lie. "I left something important--"

"I doubt that," Dumbledore said cheerily. 

Harry blinked. The Headmaster's eyes were twinkling delightedly. He was, Harry realized, enjoying this. "Er," Harry said. "Well, the truth is that I'm meeting a friend."

"And I suppose you arranged to meet Mister Malfoy already, and you aren't planning to break your way into the Slytherin common room?"

Harry tried, but he couldn't quite manage to conceal his surprise. A "yes" tumbled out of his lips before he could think it over, and Dumbledore smiled.

"Well, then," the Headmaster said. He blinked, and appeared very unconvincingly distressed. "Goodness. I seem to have gone momentarily deaf and blind. I certainly hope no one takes unfair advantage of my momentary incapacity."

Harry smiled as Dumbledore stared happily off into the distance. "Thank you, Professor," he said.

"If someone had just expressed gratitude, which, of course, I would not know due to my momentary disability, I would certainly say they are welcome," Dumbledore murmured as Harry slipped past him.

From there, Harry ran down the corridor, and when he finally arrived outside the Slytherin common room, Draco was leaning against the wall, looking cross. He looked up at Harry's approach, and a smile touched the corners of his mouth. 

"You're very cute, Potter," he said.

Harry stopped abruptly, the cloak swirling around his feet.

"The way you thought you were being clever in Potions this morning. I've not seen a more _endearing_ attempt at secretiveness in months." Draco pushed himself off the wall and walked, unerringly, to where Harry stood. He betrayed the fact that he couldn't actually see Harry only by reaching out a little earlier than he should have. His hand swept across to the right once, and then to the left, and caught the cloak in his outstretched fingers. Draco worked himself under the cloak and favored Harry with an ironic grin. Not for the first time, Harry caught a whiff of polished wood, plums, and treacle tart. That close to Draco, he was reminded somewhat overpoweringly of the plum-scented shampoo Hermione used (or that he assumed she used. Her hair smelled like it, at any rate).

"Something wrong, Harry?" Draco asked. Harry realized he'd allowed his eyes to drift closed. Draco smelled _good._

"What is that smell?"

Draco shrugged and let Harry start leading him away. "Amortentia-scented cologne," he said. "It smells different to everyone. Like the things they love the most."

Harry thought for a moment. He blushed. "It smells like a broomstick, I suppose, and treacle tart, and... Hermione's hair."

Draco turned a little pink, himself. "Broomstick for me, too, but then there's hot tea, and a hint of the Potions room."

Harry grinned. "Leave it to you to love the way the Potions classroom smells."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, Dumbledore. You're so much fun.
> 
> Anyway, there are a million and one ways I can use Amortentia-cologne in the plot, but mostly, I think it's both a very neat and a very obvious concept. I'm sure the characters themselves will discuss it a bit.
> 
> Once again, any thoughts anyone has on how I'm writing Harry would be appreciated.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Such a freakin' dull weekend. Guess I'll fill the time with Gay Draco, or, as I like to call him, Gayco.
> 
> Yeah, that was bad, and I'm sorry.

Harry and Draco's conversation that night led them to a little room behind a painting of a rather sad-looking gentleman with a pile of broken wands. The Marauders' Map insisted that Harry had to call him an old fraud in order to get in. In any case, the room behind the painting was a bit dusty, but he and Draco had cleaned it up and found that, underneath the age and neglect, it was a fairly passable bar, although it was small and completely unstocked. Still, there were seats, and privacy, and he and Draco chatted into the night. Eventually, Draco asked about the Marauders' Map.

"My dad made it," Harry said with a little sigh. "He and his friends, they called themselves the Marauders when they were in school."

Draco looked at the map. "It's an impressive bit of magic. My dad always says it was a shame your father was on the other side of the war, pure-blooded and talented as he was."

"Does it really matter that he was a pure-blood?"

Draco frowned down at the map, as though he was trying to get it to answer Harry for him. Finally, he heaved a sigh. "I don't know. Ask me three years ago. It all seems so much more complicated now." Draco slid the map around on the bar, watching the little dots move about. "I may not be very fond of her, but Granger is... well, if pure-bloods are the only ones who are that _good,_ then that sort of causes a few problems, with her being muggle-born and all that. And Crabbe and Goyle are both pure-blood, and they're about as good at magic as Filch." He shook his head. "But then, Dumbledore is pure-blood, and he's supposed to be the most powerful wizard in the world. I know you think it doesn't matter."

Harry nodded. "I can't imagine it matters at all. I mean, Hermione is the best student in our whole year. She's probably the best student in our year and the year above."

Draco fell silent, and, apparently reluctant to discuss the matter further, he said, "who do you live with? All anyone knows is that it's family, and they're supposed to be muggles."

Harry grimaced. "My aunt and uncle, and my cousin, Dudley. They're the Dursleys."

Draco grinned. "Dudley Dursley? Do his parents know how awful that name is?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. But I doubt it. I'm sure they think it's wonderful. If they could have named me, though, I'd probably be Mud Potter. They hate me."

A look of outrage crossed Draco's face. "Hate you?"

"You say that like you never hated me."

"Well, if I'd grown up with you, I can't imagine I would have."

Harry quirked a smile out at that. "We'd have made excellent childhood friends, wouldn't we?"

"You would have got us into trouble, and I would have got us out," Draco agreed. His brow drew close and angry again, though, as he stared down at the Marauders' Map. "Why do they hate you?"

"Because I'm a wizard," Harry replied sullenly. "They hate magic. And they're horrible to me because I have it."

This time, when Draco turned red up to his hairline, it was anything but but funny. "They hate you because you're a wizard?" Draco looked about ready to jump up from his chair. "How... why would anyone--"

"They're obsessed with how other people think of them," Harry said. "They want everyone to think they're normal. They've always tried to act as though I didn't exist. I used to have to sleep in a cupboard under the stairs." He shrugged. "It's not as bad anymore. They're afraid of me. They have been since I found out I'm a wizard."

Draco grinned. "I bet you didn't do anything to stop them being afraid." 

Harry grinned back at him. "You know who the Marauders all were?" he said, tapping the map with an outstretched finger. When Draco gave it a questioning look, Harry smiled. "My dad, and Remus Lupin, and a man named Peter Pettigrew" (Harry pushed down a surge of the most intense dislike at the mention of Pettigrew) "and, oh, by the way, Sirius Black."

Harry had the pleasure of seeing Draco go a little wide-eyed. "I knew Black was friends with your parents, but he actually cooperated with your father on a project like this map?"

"He's my godfather, too," Harry said, "and he was mentioned on the muggle news as an escaped killer. I may have implied that, with him being my godfather, I could write him if the Dursleys got too horrible."

Draco's jaw dropped. "But," he spluttered, "but you're not a Slytherin. Your attempts at deception are supposed to be _cute_ , not breathtaking."

"I have my moments," Harry said, though, privately, he thought it couldn't hurt that he actually could have written Sirius if the Dursleys got too horrible.

Draco just shook his head. "I bet I could teach you to actually be sneaky."

"I suppose you probably could," Harry said.

+----+

For the next week or so, Harry and Draco barely had time to meet for any of their little chats. The teachers all seemed to be assigning more difficult work than ever before, and Harry and Hermione found it nearly as difficult to get together for anything like a date as it was for Harry to catch a moment alone with his newest friend. Moody, in particular, was pushing his classes, and when he announced that he was going to be putting the Imperius curse on the fourth years, Harry knew he was in for a rough lesson. He wasn't certain that it was entirely a legal lesson, but, ruthless as it was, Moody's logic was sound, and Harry found that he actually could resist the Imperius curse. It was the strangest feeling. The curse wiped away all of his worries when it was used on him, and he was left with a sort of vague, untraceable happiness. Commands in Moody's voice tried to control Harry, but before long, he learned to throw it off by questioning _why_ he should do what Moody wanted him to do. He managed to teach Hermione how to resist it, although he noticed, with perhaps a bit more smugness than was entirely appropriate, that Ron had a lot of trouble with throwing off the curse. He was skipping on every other step on the way out of the classroom, and Harry couldn't help grinning to himself as he watched.

At lunch, Harry managed to pass a couple of tips along to Draco, and he was pleased to hear that Draco had been the first of the Slytherins to manage it. In the next few weeks, the teachers all continued to make honest attempts to drown their students in homework, and Hermione's reaction, as always, was to study as though her life depended on it, which Harry found preternaturally frustrating. A few times, he pulled her away from studying just for a snog. She didn't quite approve of that, but Draco had been teaching him to be a little more persuasive, and he got over whatever shame he felt at using Draco's lessons to get his girlfriend to snog him in relatively short order, if only because it was the only way he could think of.

Ron continued to be obstinate and unpleasant, and eventually, he took to snogging Lavender Brown in public, which Harry and Hermione both agreed was a bit much. The two were something of a ridiculous couple anyways. It was patently obvious that Ron was dating Lavender only to get to Harry and Hermione. 

Even as Ron acted like a git, Draco seemed to improve. The Slytherins were definitely getting a bit suspicious of Draco's frequent trips out of the common room. "I think it's only my reputation that stops them asking too many questions," he remarked on the way to Care of Magical Creatures one day. 

At the end of class, Hagrid cheerfully suggested, in the tones of someone giving out a special treat, that everyone should come down to take notes on the "extraordinary behavior" of the skrewts. Given their horribleness, Harry wasn't exactly happy about that idea, but it was apparently too much for Draco to let pass without comment.

"I will not," he said in offended tones. "I see enough of these foul things during lessons, thanks."

The other Slytherins gave him approving looks, but Hagrid's smile faded and he took on a surprisingly fierce look. "Yeh'll do wha' yer told," he growled, "or I'll be takin' a leaf outta Professor Moody's book... I hear yeh made a good ferret, Malfoy."

The Gryffindors roared with laughter, and Draco turned red with anger. 

"Professor!" Harry exclaimed, and everyone turned to stare at him. It didn't register right away that he was being foolish (which, he thought later, was probably a part of being foolish), only that Hagrid had just brought up a very painful memory for Draco.

Hagrid turned a surprised look on Harry, which only spurred him on. "What Moody did to him was cruel, and he didn't deserve it. Draco is a better person than that, and you shouldn't threaten him like that."

"Er, Harry," Draco said.

Harry turned towards Draco. He had gone from red with anger to red with undisguised embarrassment. All the Slytherins were staring between him and Harry, and Pansy Parkinson exclaimed "You've been meeting Potter after curfew, haven't you!?"

"Oh, bollocks," Harry said softly.

Hagrid was absolutely gobsmacked. Ron looked as though he was taking evidence of Harry's friendship with Draco as a personal affront, Hermione had clapped a hand to her forehead, probably thinking that Harry had just done something incredibly stupid. 

"Wait, Harry," Seamus Finnigan said. "Are you running around on Hermione with _Malfoy?_ "

Harry blushed fearsomely, and Draco turned even pinker, but Hermione barked out a sharp laugh. "Of course not," she said. "But they _are_ friends. And Draco didn't want the other Slytherins to know that." She gestured to where the rest of the Slytherins were moving away from Draco. "Can't really say I blame him."

Draco looked around. For the moment, at least, he seemed completely bereft of support from his house. Draco's shoulders slumped a bit, and he walked over to Harry.

"Sorry," Harry said.

"You stood up for me," Draco replied. Without warning, he hugged Harry. He'd never done it before, but Harry found that he didn't mind. For one thing, Draco smelled aggressively nice, like plums, broomstick handles, and treacle tart. For another, the gesture was obviously born of genuine affection. Draco held him out at arms length and smiled. "They'll get over it."

Despite the minor drama (and a muttered apology to Draco), Hagrid still insisted that everyone should come down to take notes on the skrewts.

When the class went back to the castle, Draco walked next to Harry and Hermione, chatting amicably. Crabbe and Goyle followed at a distance, looking very confused about whether or not they should be tagging along after Draco. 

"I imagine it's going to take Hagrid a while to get used to you being my friend," Harry was saying as they walked into the entrance hall, but he was cut off by everyone else exclaiming over a notice that had been put up while they were in class.

Somewhere at the front of the crowd, Ron was reading off the announcement. It was hard to catch everything, but Harry gathered that the guests from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons would be arriving on October 30th. 

Hermione looked as though she was a bit nervous over the prospect, but Draco just looked excited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, the little room in the first scene is shamelessly taken from one of my other works. It actually houses a stocked bar in that, maintained mostly by Slytherin students. There is also a room somewhere in the castle in which there are antique chairs and couches from a long-lost set of unique colonial American furniture. They exist in a state of temporal flux and are covered with a constantly changing roster of archaic vulgarities. 
> 
> I like the swear-chair room.
> 
> Hm. This is at least three times the length of most of my chapters. Don't expect this very often. This is the result of monstrous boredom. 
> 
> Anyways, we've made one of the most important plot advancements for the slash portion of this fiction in this chapter. Everyone knows that Harry and Draco are friends now. So now we get to have all sorts of scenes in the library, because that's where Hermione hangs out.
> 
> Well, I guess I get to write Hermione more.
> 
> Yay.
> 
> (To be honest, my lack of enthusiasm is because Hermione is both easy to fuck up and a good enough character that I'd really prefer to not fuck her up.)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters explaining things about the plot is one of the worst things to write, so I'm just gonna draw a comparison with Fleur Delacour.

A week later, Hermione was just starting in on what seemed likely to be an excellent diatribe about the plight of house-elves when the mail arrived. Harry, looking forward to the upcoming arrival of the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students, was caught off guard when Hedwig landed in front of him. He grinned at his owl nonetheless and relieved her of Sirius' reply, giving over some food from his plate, which she ate gratefully. Hermione leaned over and looked at the letter as Harry read it. 

_Nice try, Harry._  
 _I'm back in the country and well hidden. I want you to keep me posted on everything that's going on at Hogwarts. Don't use Hedwig, keep changing owls, and don't worry about me, just watch out for yourself. Don't forget what I said about your scar._  
 _Sirius_

Harry thanked Hedwig for carrying the message and sent her off. After breakfast, Draco caught up with him and Hermione. Harry frowned. Since his friendship with Draco became public knowledge, the Slytherin had looked drawn and haggard. Crabbe had abandoned him, although Goyle seemed to have decided that they were friends no matter what (for the moment, at least). Of the rest of the Slytherins, only Blaise Zabini and Millicent Bulstrode were still willing to talk to him, except for a few upper-year students who held themselves as being above the power games of the lower years. The sudden dip in Draco's popularity didn't account for his stress-ragged appearance, though. It was Lucius Malfoy who was behind that. Draco had received letters every day from his father, urging him to "reconsider his friendly overtures towards the Potter boy," and Lucius Malfoy had even visited the school once. Draco had said that the ensuing "conversation" could probably be heard on the next floor up.

"Hi Draco," Harry said. "Looking forward to the guests getting here?"

Draco nodded. "Definitely." They didn't have time for more conversation than that. Draco went off to his separate class, flashing Harry a smile as he went.

+----+

Nobody paid much attention in classes that day. It was understandable; with the upcoming arrival of more guests than Hogwarts had hosted in a century, a little bit of nervousness was to be expected. 

Professor McGonagall chivvied the Gryffindors into place outdoors after classes to wait for the arrival of the foreign delegations. Her own nervousness was making her brusque and she was short and demanding with the students. For the first time in his life, while McGonagall made him straighten out his shirt, Harry caught himself wishing Snape was his head of house. The Slytherins weren't getting chided at all.

The shadows lengthened and everyone began to grow restless, and then, from the back of the crowd, Professor Dumbeldore called out "Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches."

"Where?" someone called out, and everyone started looking around, at the drive leading up to the front doors, and anywhere else they could think of. Harry, with his practiced seeker's eyes, was one of the first to spot it after a sixth year student called out. Something, and Harry couldn't be entirely sure what it was for a few long moments, was approaching through the sky. Speculations were called out about what it could be, but Harry just watched as it resolved itself into a carriage of truly staggering proportions, drawn along by winged horses the size of elephants. The students in the front shrank back as the massive carriage landed, rolling to a halt in front of the assembled Hogwarts students. 

The carriage's door bore a coat of arms, crossed golden wands each emitting three stars, that vanished from sight as the door was thrown open. A boy in light blue robes jumped down out of the carriage, and after him came the reason for the carriage's prodigious size. 

She was stupendous. Harry had heard the word used to describe only a very few people, but the woman who emerged from the Beauxbatons carriage thoroughly rated it. She was at least Hagrid's size, but where Hagrid was merely large, the woman carried herself with a grace and elegance that demanded a higher class of adjective. 

Professor Dumbledore started clapping, and everyone followed his lead as the woman's students began emerging from the carriage. 

From the Headmasters' conversation, Harry was able to determine that the woman was Madame Maxime, that she was most certainly in charge of Beauxbatons, and that she was very, very French.

He began looking around for the Durmstrang delegation. For a very long while, nothing happened, and then, a low rumbling, slurping sound began to drift to them through the deepening darkness. 

"The lake!" yelled Lee Jordan, pointing down at it. "Look at the lake!"

And indeed, something was emerging from the lake. Green bubbles rose up to the surface, and a whirlpool formed, and then, a mast emerged from the water. A ship rose up after it. Harry leaned over and whispered to Hermione as the ship emerged, "I think Durmstrang wins."

+----+

Everyone had been more than a little shocked to see that the Durmstrang delegation included Viktor Krum. For the first time all week, the whispers Harry heard all around him weren't about him and Draco. 

He tried to pay close attention when Professor Dumbledore explained how the Triwizard champions were going to be chosen. There was a goblet full of bright blue white flames, the revealing of which was accompanied by a great deal of ceremony, certainly far more than Harry was used to seeing out of Hogwarts. Bartemius Crouch and Ludo Bagman had been present for the whole explanation, but in truth, Harry had been a bit distracted. One of the Beauxbatons girls was, possibly, at least part veela. He'd been unable to take his eyes off of her for very long: she had long blonde hair that drew his eye unerringly to her face. It was, he noted to himself, almost the same shade as Draco's, so he also found his eyes drawn, on occasion, from the Ravenclaw table where the Beauxbatons students sat to the Slytherin table, where Draco was making a very obvious effort to look as though he wasn't chatting up Viktor Krum. Harry had never really noticed how _nice_ Draco's hair was before.

+----+

Everyone kept making a big fuss about the goblet all the next day. The tournament wasn't open to underage students, but that didn't stop at least four students from trying to get past the age line Dumbledore had set around the goblet. When Fred and George Weasley made the attempt, Dumbledore's spell threw them violently back away from the goblet, and gave them majestic, flowing white beards, whether because that was exactly how it was meant to function or because they had used an aging potion to make the attempt, he wasn't sure. Several people made a huge production of putting their names in the goblet, which Harry thought was a bit stupid. 

He and Hermione spent some of the day in the library, but eventually, Draco showed up looking bored and a little neglected, and as Harry was getting a bit tired of books, he kissed Hermione goodbye and went off to the grounds to race brooms with Draco. Some of the Durmstrang students were hanging about on the grounds. Krum was with them, and Harry couldn't help showing off a little, but the quidditch player didn't seem to notice, and eventually he went inside. 

Harry and Draco continued to race around, and when dinner started approaching, they put their brooms back in the shed and headed back to the castle, talking about professional quidditch and what it might be like to be a paid player. Harry stopped short as the blonde Beauxbatons girl glided into sight. Draco followed Harry's gaze. 

"Really?" he said. "What about Granger?"

"I thought you didn't like Grang... Hermione," Harry said.

Draco laughed. "Well, I'd rather my best mate not make a fool of himself," Draco said.

Harry's head whipped around back to Draco. "Best mate?" he squeaked. Harry cleared his throat and tried again. "I'm your best mate?"

Draco nodded. "Well, yeah. And it's not even because you're my only mate." He looped his arm over Harry's shoulders and pulled him close in a comradely sort of gesture.

Harry thought that over for a minute and then he blinked. "Draco, when did you replace Ron?"

Draco grinned. 

+----+

Harry decided, after his plate was cleared, that he only had so much capacity for feasting. Twice in two days was just a bit much, although some students, Ron included, by the look of things, didn't agree. 

Professor Dumbledore stood at the head of the Great Hall when the feast was done and started speaking.

"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision. I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber, where they will be receiving their first instructions." As he spoke, he gestured to everywhere the champions would be required to go, then he drew his wand and waved it once. All the candles in the Great Hall were extinguished, save for those in the carved pumpkins scattered around. Most of the light now came from the actinic glow of the Goblet of Fire. 

There was indistinct whispering around the Great Hall. Harry thought he heard Draco mutter "we haven't got all night," and then the flames from the Goblet flared up, turning red and throwing off sparks. 

A tongue of flame shot from the cup, and a charred scrap of parchment floated towards Professor Dumbledore. He caught it deftly and announced, with a good deal of drama, "the champion for Durmstrang will be Viktor Krum."

"No surprises there!" came Ron's voice from down the table as everyone in the Hall began to applaud and cheer for Krum. Harry watched Krum walking from the Slytherin table, past Draco, towards the staff table. He passed it and vanished into the chamber Dumbledore had indicated. 

"Bravo, Viktor!" Karkaroff, the Durmstrang headmaster, shouted over the applause. 

After a while, when the excitement had died down, the goblet spat out another parchment, and again Professor Dumbledore caught it in midair. "The champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour," he announced. 

Harry watched as the Draco-haired girl headed up along the same route that Krum had taken _Draco-haired?_ he thought to himself. It was accurate, but the phrasing was... odd.

"Oh, look, they're all disappointed," Hermione said, pointing to the Beauxbatons girls. Two of the girls who hadn't been chosen were in tears. 

When Fleur Delacour was out of sight, too, the goblet again threw out a parchment, and Professor Dumbledore again snatched it from the air. "The Hogwarts champion is Cedric Diggory."

The applause for Cedric was even louder than the applause for Krum had been, and Diggory walked up to the staff table with his head held high. Finally, Dumbledore managed to call out over the din, "excellent! Well, now we have three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real--"

But Dumbledore suddenly stopped speaking, and it was apparent to everybody what had distracted him.

The fire in the goblet had just turned red again. As sparks began to fly from it, a creeping sense of dread rode up Harry's spine. When another tongue of flame disgorged another sheet of parchment, and Dumbldore again snatched it out of the air, the growing dread laid icy fingers on Harry's spine.

Dumbledore cleared his throat and read out, although Harry knew, everyone, he thought, must have known. They were all staring at him, and Harry wanted to sink into his seat, to hide under the table, because, as though it was the only thing that anyone could possibly have said, Professor Dumbledore opened his mouth and said, "Harry Potter."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops. end notes. 
> 
> So, that's some plot progress. 
> 
> Also, yeah, Harry is starting to notice him some Draco. One wonders if maybe he's picking up on some (undoubtedly subtle) signs.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> La dee da, skipping an entire chapter, hum dee dum, fucking hate expositional dialogue, tum dee ta, you all know the reason Harry gets to participate anyways, doo dee dee, the chapter is pretty much filler in the book...

"What's really awful is that the worst of it was Ron." Hermione made a sympathetic noise, and Harry continued on, "I know he hates me now, but he could have at least tried to pretend to ignore me. Instead I got that ridiculous earful about how I must have felt so bloody clever to get my name into the goblet, and that after I had so much trouble escaping from that ridiculous party the twins threw together." Harry sighed. "And of course, Moody was going on about how entering me in the tournament would be a great way to get the opportunity to kill me, because, naturally, I need to hear from _two_ professors that I'm liable to snuff it soon, Trelawney alone wasn't enough."

Hermione had been the only reason Harry was able to head down to the Great Hall for breakfast. The common room had been empty except for her when he arrived in it, and without a word, she had stood up to go down to breakfast with him as though it was any other day. She was holding his hand as they walked down to the Great Hall now, and it was at times like this that Harry was immensely glad to have her; she was such a solid anchor when everything started getting crazy. 

Of course, Harry reflected as a familiar voice called out across the entrance hall, Hermione wasn't the only person he was glad of, though if anyone had told him he'd be happy to see Draco Malfoy running up to him a couple of months earlier, Harry would have called them a liar. It was still a little strange to him that his automatic reaction to Draco was a smile now. 

"Harry," Draco said again as he caught up with the two Gryffindor students. "Harry, I think you and I really ought to talk. Privately."

"You can say whatever it is to both of us," Hermione said.

Draco shook his head. He no longer oozed contempt when he looked at her. Harry wondered when that had happened. "I'm not sure how well you'd take it, Granger."

Hermione frowned at Draco, but it was Harry who answered. "Please, Draco, don't start a fight. I really don't think I could take my best mate squabbling with my girlfriend right now."

Draco grinned, and, in the exact same tone Harry had used the day before, he said, "Best mate?"

Harry glared at him, and Draco sighed and led them both off to a slightly more secluded area of the Great Hall.

Draco took a deep breath. "Harry, I know this is going to sound totally daft, but I think someone might be trying to kill you."

Harry stared at Draco. "Moody said the same thing last night."

Draco blinked. "He did?" Harry nodded, and Draco shrugged. "Well, he's an arse, but he's clever. Must come from being a Slytherin."

"Moody was in Slytherin?" Hermione said.

"Of course he was," Draco said. "Man who thinks that way, did you think he was a Hufflepuff?" He shook his head. "But that's not the point. Harry, Moody is probably right. I can think of maybe half a dozen reasons to enter you into the tournament, and none of them is as likely as trying to kill you and make it look like an accident. You've got to be really, really careful."

Harry did his best to not roll his eyes. "I will, Draco. I don't like Moody any more than you do, but if you're actually _agreeing_ with him on something..."

Draco gave Harry a little smile that managed to be helpless and reassuring all at once. "Constant vigilance, Harry," he said before he headed to the Great Hall. 

Harry and Hermione stayed exactly long enough to eat breakfast. They dodged the questions and comments of the rest of the Gryffindors, and then went out to the grounds. A walk around the lake took them, eventually, to a good spot to just sit, and Harry found that, once he was sitting, he didn't want to do much besides maybe to snog Hermione.

Naturally, that was when she insisted that he ought to write to Sirius.

"Did you have to say that _now_?" Harry groaned.

Hermione frowned, her expression one of confused consternation. "What?"

"It's only, I was just about to snog you, and then you mention Sirius, and now the two thoughts are all jumbled together."

Hermione laughed, but reined herself in quickly. "I really do think you ought to write him, though. Obviously, don't use Hedwig, he said not to, but he asked yo to keep him posted. It's almost as though he expected something like this. See," she reached into her bag, "I've even brought parchment and a quill."

"I'm not writing to him about this!" Harry objected. "He flew back up to the country because my scar got a little sore! If I tell him someone's entered me in the Triwizard tournament, he's liable to break down the doors and kidnap me to Romania where Charlie Weasley can set a guard of dragons around me!"

Hermione snorted out a laugh at that, but she turned serious again almost at once. "Harry, he'd want to know. And he's going to find out anyway. Besides, have you told him about being friends with Draco now?"

Harry felt a flush creeping up his cheeks, but Hermione offered him a quill, he took it.

+----+

Draco provided one of the few bright spots the next day during Care of Magical Creatures. With the exception of the Gryffindors, who were convinced, apparently, that Harry would be walking on water next, the rest of the school seemed to think that he was stealing Cedric Diggory's glory by being chosen as the fourth champion. Those that thought otherwise, specifically, the Slytherins, were all opposed to Harry on the general grounds that he was Harry Potter.

Draco, on the other hand, greeted Harry like he'd not seen him in years and, having apparently told Goyle to do the same, talked about absolutely nothing related to the Triwizard Tournament until someone else made a remark about Harry being a glory hound. As soon as they made the comment, Draco began singing, loudly, about Harry's fame. It was so over the top and ridiculous that Harry couldn't help laughing. He stopped laughing, however, when Hagrid suggested that the students all take the blast-ended skrewts for walks. Apparently, Hagrid was laboring under the impression that the problem with the creatures was an excess of energy, rather than any kind of general horribleness. 

"Take this thing for a walk?" Draco parroted in evident dismay. "And where exactly are we supposed to fix the leash? Around the sting, the blasting end, or the sucker?"

"Roun' the middle," Hagrid said, doing just that to one of the skrewts. "Er--yeh might want ter put on yer dragon-hide gloves, jus' as a precaution, like. Harry, you come here an' help with this big one."

As soon as the rest of the class was off--Harry couldn't stop a little laugh at Draco struggling with his skrewt--Hagrid started grilling Harry on the tournament. Once he had established that Harry had no idea who had put him in for it (Harry had felt a rush of affection for the huge man when Hagrid told him that he didn't think Harry had put himself in), he moved on to the topic Harry had been dreading from him.

"Now, Harry, I'm not going ter lie to yeh. I'm a bit worried abou' this Draco Malfoy business. He's bad news. His whole family're bad news."

Harry sighed. "His family might be a bit rotten, but Draco's... he's different, Hagrid." The object of their discussion was being dragged around by his monstrous charge not too far away. Harry watched as Draco hauled on the skrewt's leash. "You know, he's even nice to Hermione. I mean, they sort of _dislike_ each other, but that's nothing too terrible. And he doesn't say 'mudblood' anymore. I think he really wanted to be my friend all along."

Hagrid shook his head. "It's going ter turn out rotten in the end, Harry, I jus' know it. Nothin' good can come from yer bein' friends with Malfoy."

"Maybe I ought to be the judge of that," Harry said. "Draco seems sincere enough, and I really enjoy being around him."

Hagrid's frown only deepened.

+----+

Potions classes, surprisingly, were fairly tolerable. Professor Snape, after some hesitation, seemed to have decided that, all told, he would take Draco's side, which meant that he reluctantly prevented the Slytherin students from getting too horrible. Pansy Parkinson led the teasing, but even she couldn't be too awful to him with Snape on the lookout. 

Other classes weren't as pleasant. Even Professor Sprout seemed unusually distant towards Harry, and the Hufflepuff students were actually agreeing with most of the Slytherins on disliking him. 

Halfway through one Potions lesson, a knock on the door interrupted Harry in the middle of trying to exchange tips with Draco. It was Colin Creevey. He edged into the room, smiled broadly at Harry, and then hurried up to Snape's desk.

Harry had a bad feeling about this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost wrote Draco's song.
> 
> If you ask me really nicely while I'm really bored, I might actually stick it into a later chapter.
> 
> Anyway, I'll just leave that there, because it's time to go make fishsticks and this chapter is long enough, anyways.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much of this chapter is depressingly plot-relevant...

"Yes?" Professor Snape said sharply.

"Please sir, I'm supposed to take Harry Potter upstairs."

Snape stared at Colin. "Potter has another hour of potions to complete." He looked around and sighed. "But as I imagine this is for the Triwizard Tournament, take him, and leave quickly." He seemed almost to choke on the words, but Colin dragged Harry away. Harry didn't stop for a kiss with Hermione, since he didn't think Snape's newfound tolerance for him would extend that far. 

"It's amazing, isn't it, Harry," Colin began as soon as Harry had closed the door. "Isn't it though? You being champion?"

Harry tolerated Colin's chatter all the way to their destination. He couldn't help thinking that Draco would have found a way to shut the overenthusiastic little boy up.

The room Colin took him to was a smallish classroom with most of the desks pushed off to the side. Three remained, however, pushed together and covered with a length of velvet. Five chairs sat behind the desks. Ludo Bagman, dressed like he had simply thrown on the first thing in his closet, was talking to a red-robed witch Harry didn't recognize. 

Viktor Krum sulked Krummishly in the corner. Cedric and Fleur were talking to each other. She kept tossing her head, making her long hair ripple attractively. Harry frowned. Draco's hair was just as good and he didn't... Harry tore his eyes away from Fleur, and they settled for a moment on an aging wizard with a slightly smoking camera who had clearly decided not to look at things that weren't Fleur. Before Harry could say anything, Bagman jumped up.

"Ah, here he is! Champion number four! In you come, Harry, in you come... nothing to worry about, it's just the wand weighing ceremony, the rest of the judges will be here in a moment--"

"Wand weighing?" Harry repeated nervously.

"We have to check that your wands are fully functional, no problems, you know, as they're your most important tools in the tasks ahead." Bagman beamed brightly. "The expert's upstairs now with Dumbledore. And then there's going to be a little photo shoot. This is Rita Skeeter," he added, gesturing toward the red-robed witch. Harry remembered Draco mentioning Rita Skeeter as someone he should probably be careful of. "She's doing a small piece on the tournament for the Daily Prophet."

"Maybe not _that_ small," Rita Skeeter said. The way she looked at Harry was disturbing, hungry and appraising.

She was dressed elaborately, with jeweled spectacles and architectural hair. Her fingernails were long, with red polish on them, and a crocodile-skin handbag was clutched in her hands.

"I wonder if I could have a little word with Harry before we start?" she said, still watching Harry like a hawk watching a mouse. "The youngest champion, you know... to add a bit of color?"

"Certainly!" Bagman enthused. That is--if Harry has no objections."

Before Harry could reply, Rita Skeeter was dragging him off, out of the room and into a nearby door. "We don't want to be in there with all that noise," she said. "Let's see... ah, yes, this is nice and cozy."

She led Harry into a broom cupboard.

And then she grilled him about everything. The tournament, Hermione, Draco, Ron, his parents, life at Hogwarts, she asked about everything, an acid-green quill scrawling out, without her assistance, charged paraphrases of his answers and describing the scene in the cupboard in flatly flowery terms, which were also very inaccurate. When Harry objected, she began to bull on, until Professor Dumbledore yanked open the door. Skeeter greeted him with every sign of delight, although her magical quill and parchment vanished into her handbag as soon as he appeared. She made some comment about a piece she had done, and Dumbledore complimented her, in typical Dumbledorian form, on how nasty it had been, and on a particularly vicious-sounding insult she had apparently delivered to him. Despite his politeness, Professor Dumbledore led them firmly into the classroom, where, of all people, Mister Ollivander waited to inspect their wands. 

The wand inspection made Harry feel a bit self conscious. His own wand was chipped and well-used and covered with finger-marks, and everyone else's seemed to be in excellent condition. Cedric even remarked to Mister Ollivander that he had polished his the night before (though, from the smile he directed at Fleur, Harry wasn't certain he was referring specifically to the wand Ollivander was inspecting, or at least, not exclusively).

After the inspection, Rita Skeeter insisted on picture after picture, most of them with Harry someplace quite prominent in them, and when they finally let Harry out, it was dinnertime. He grabbed a quick bite, but with everyone asking what had gone on after he left Potions, Harry hurried up. Hermione followed after him.

Ron was up in the common room, with Lavender Brown wrapped tightly around him.

Harry ignored him and found an owl had come with Sirius' reply. Rather than tell him anything the least bit useful, Sirius wanted to speak with Harry face-to-face, and, apparently to that end, he asked Harry to ensure that he was alone by the fire in the common room at one in the morning on the 22nd.

+----+

"Well, it could be worse," Draco said when Harry told him what had happened with Rita Skeeter. Ostensibly, they were supposed to be practicing summoning charms: Hermione seemed to think that having the two of them practice together while she studied would lead to actual practice getting done, but really, Harry and Draco tended to wander off down the strangest conversational paths. Harry enjoyed talking to Draco. They tended to agree on a lot of things, and when they disagreed, they didn't usually argue. The few real arguments they'd had since they became friends had been quickly smoothed over and seemed silly only hours after they were over.

"She'll still distort it all," Draco said, breaking into Harry's reverie. "Might even make up things you never actually said."

Harry blinked at Draco, realigning his thoughts after his brief foray into woolgathering. "She's a reporter, though. That's not right!"

"Never stopped her before," Draco said with a shrug.

The next two weeks were about halfway between miserable and wonderful for Harry. With Draco's help, he actually did eventually manage to learn the summoning charm, and Hermione found the time to snog him a bit more regularly. Once or twice, he even thought it might go further than that, but for one reason or another, they always stopped short.

At the same time, Rita Skeeter's article in the Prophet caused him no end of trouble. She had written in flowery terms about his relationship with Hermione, had speculated darkly on Draco's motives in befriending him ("that'll be my dad trying to make you brush me off," Draco said), and had put words into his mouth that were patently untrue. Rita Skeeter's version of Harry was a cartoonish caricature of the tragic hero, weeping for his lost parents and muddling through only because he knew nothing else.

Because he was dreading the first task, it seemed, time veritably blurred past Harry, and before he knew it, he was in Hogsmeade village with Hermione. 

Since this was to be the first thing he and Hermione would go on that could actually be called a date, rather than just hanging about the school grounds, Harry had freshened up. He wore fresh, new robes, and though his hair was still messy, it was at least artfully messy. Hermione took one look at Madam Puddifoot's, the local date spot, and turned her nose up at it. "I think we'll go to the Three Broomsticks," she said.

They spent a pleasant, very snoggy evening in the pub, and took the time to discuss the first task a little, though Harry didn't want to think too much about it. 

Professors Moody and Hagrid came in at one point, and Hagrid asked Harry to meet him that night at midnight at his cabin under the invisibility cloak. Hermione argued against it, but Harry felt as though it was worth taking the risk of being late for Sirius. Hagrid had sounded as though what he wanted was important.

When they arrived back at Hogwarts, Hermione spotted Draco wandering around the grounds, looking, as she put it, "forlorn".

Harry kissed her on the cheek. "I'll go and make sure he's okay," he said.

"Don't get back to the common room too late," Hermione said, and she continued off towards the castle.

Harry walked over to Draco. "Hey!" he called out. 

Draco turned and flashed Harry a smile. "Harry!"

Harry started walking next to him. "Is everything all right, Draco?"

Draco sighed. "I'm all right. Just... well, honestly, it's sort of... about a girl."

Draco sat down on the grass, watching the lake. "A girl?" Harry said. Somehow, he had never really thought of Draco having a girlfriend. He wasn't quite sure how he liked the idea; after all, if Draco had a girlfriend, then he wouldn't be likely to hang out with _Harry_ as much.

Draco looked at Harry and blushed. "Yeah. She was in Hogsmeade on a date today." He sighed. "I like her, but... I don't even know if she thinks about me like that."

Harry thought for a moment. "Have you told her how you feel?"

Draco shook his head. "I haven't. How could I? Her uh... her boyfriend..."

Harry grinned. "You're good enough to get whatever girl you want, Draco," he said. He patted Draco on the back and stood up.

"Thanks, Harry," Draco said. He didn't exactly sound reassured, but he at least seemed happier for having talked with Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hm. With that, I can't develop Draco and Harry's relationship further without them snogging. 
> 
> Which, I realize, is what most of you are here for, but you'll just have to wait. There's a few more chapters yet to go.
> 
> Anyway, Harry gets a "defining" scene for his changing character in upcoming chapters, and so does Draco, and I'll be eager to know what people think of them. 
> 
> As always, feel free to comment, especially on how I'm writing the characters and any ways I might be missing the mark.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy. Long one comin' up. Take a deep breath, let it out slowly, and brace yourself for multiple mentions of Voldemort, a dragon, and some angry, angry shouting.

Harry was quite sure he had gone pale. When he saw Sirius' head in the fire, though, he smiled for what felt like the first time in days, although, of course, it wasn't. 

"Sirius--how're you doing?"

Sirius' lot had obviously improved in the months since they last spoke. He looked like he'd been eating better, and his hair was clean and well-groomed.

"I'm fine, Harry," Sirius said, and he pushed right on from there. "What's this I hear about you making friends with Draco Malfoy?"

Harry heaved a sigh. "Sirius, he's not bad, he's just--"

"He's a Malfoy, Harry! You can't trust him!"

Harry stared at his godfather. "Said Sirius Black," he replied dryly.

"That's not the same and you know it," Sirius growled after a few moments. 

"No, it's not. It's a much smaller leap. And I'm not throwing away a friendship just because you say I ought to. Honestly, Sirius..." Harry cringed a bit at the admission, "he's a lot better friend than Ron ever was."

Sirius' jaw dropped. Harry had told him a lot about Ron in the few letters they'd been able to exchange over the summer, and to hear him talk about Ron in the past tense like that was obviously jarring. "Was?"

Harry nodded. "Ron and I had a bit of a row. I think it was over Hermione, but then I got chosen for the tournament, and now he's even worse. I don't think we're going to be patching things up this time."

Saying it out loud hurt more than Harry expected. Even Sirius winced, but he changed the subject quickly. "About the tournament."

It was a leading statement, and Harry let himself be led. He told Sirius all about what had happened, everything from being chosen to Rita Skeeter's articles, and then he finished with "and now Hagrid's just shown me what's coming in the first task, and it's dragons, Sirius, and I'm a goner."

"Dragons we can deal with, Harry," Sirius said when he was sure Harry had stopped talking, "but we'll get to that in a minute. I haven't got long here... i've broken into a wizarding house to use the fire, but they could be back at any time. There are things I need to warn you about."

"What?" Harry said, hoping that Sirius wasn't about to try to stir up more trouble over Draco.

"Karkaroff." Sirius' reply was unexpected. "Harry, he was a Death Eater. You know what Death Eaters are, don't you?"

"Yes--he--what?"

"He was caught," Sirius went on, talking very quickly, as though hoping to get in as much warning as possible, "he was in Azkaban with me, but he got released. I'd bet everything that's why Dumbledore wanted an Auror at Hogwarts this year--to keep an eye on him. Moody caught Karkaroff. Put him into Azkaban in the first place."

"Karkaroff got released?" Harry said slowly. He was having a little trouble assimilating all the new information. "Why?"

"He did a deal with the Ministry," Sirius said with evident distaste, still speaking quickly. Slowly, he built up a fairly convincing case against the headmaster of Dusrmstrang, and, incidentally, against Viktor Krum. From there, he segued into detailing the odd rumors he had heard, about a missing Ministry of Magic employee who had last been seen in Albania: Voldemort's last known location. 

Finally, Sirius returned to the subject Harry had been hoping he would just drop. "Harry, we really do need to talk about Malfoy."

" _Draco_ is my friend, Sirius," Harry said darkly. 

"Don't you think it's a little odd that he befriended you just before this tournament began? Harry, if it wasn't Karkaroff that put your name in the goblet, you have to consider the possibility that Malfoy did it on his father's--"

"He wouldn't do that!" Harry objected.

"Harry, please, not so loud," Sirius hissed. "All I'm saying is that he must have some ulterior motive for hanging about with you."

Harry glared at Sirius. "He's just tired of being my enemy--" Harry fell silent abruptly. His heart was suddenly pounding fit to burst. Footsteps were making their way down the spiral staircase behind him. "Go," he hissed. "Go, there's someone coming!"

Harry got to his feet, hiding the fire, hoping that whoever was coming down the stairs wouldn't see Sirius and raise the alarm. There was a tiny popping sound from the fire. Harry wondered irritably who had decided to go for a stroll at two in the morning and ruin his chance of getting advice on dragons (although he couldn't help being perversely grateful that the conversation had ended where it had).

Naturally, it was Ron who came downstairs. He peered blearily around the room, and his eyes lighted on Harry.

"Who were you talking to?" he asked.

"What's that got to do with you?" Harry snarled. "what are you even doing awake this time of night?"

Ron looked like he had several things to say to that, but then he rolled his eyes. "Nothing. I'm going back to bed.

Harry very much wanted to lose his temper with Ron. He took a deep breath, recalling a lesson Draco had taught him about keeping his cool. Ron retreated back up into the dormitory.

+----+

Hermione and Draco, for once, had the same solution for Harry's problem: read about dragons. 

While Hermione did general research in the hopes of finding some devious way of outfoxing a dragon, Draco ran Harry through some basic information about how people had fought dragons in the past. In the end, though, it was advice from Professor Moody, of all people, that inspired Harry's plan. Moody caught Harry in the corridor just after, out of a sense of justice--Harry was pretty sure Cedric was the only champion who didn't know what he'd be facing--Harry told Cedric Diggory that he'd be facing a dragon.

Moody had caught up with him, and instead of giving Harry a detention, he'd given him advice. Advice which Harry, after a little bit of thought, had decided to take to heart.

Not that he felt particularly great about it standing just inside of a huge arena, staring down a Hungarian Horntail. He felt as though the quick hug Draco had given him before they parted ways was a hug goodbye, as though the thorough snog he'd gotten from Hermione was because somewhere deep down, she had known she would never see him alive again, because, after all, he was going to be facing a dragon. 

The crowd behind the dragon seemed unreal, but the dragon herself seemed entirely too real. Her jaundiced eyes were fixed on him, her wings furled, her tail held ready to strike. 

Harry raised up his wand. He focused, as he had before with Draco. "Accio Firebolt," he said, and for a few very long moments, nothing happened. He began to wonder if the distance was too much, if the spell had failed, and then he heard the whooshing of air over a broomstick behind him. He remembered Draco's advice of an hour or two before.

_"They'll probably be looking for you to look good doing it, too, so catch your broom without looking at it. Act like you've done this a million times before. Fly like I know you can, and you'll do great."_

Harry caught his broom as it sped up from behind him, and in one smooth motion (he had practiced broomsmanship endlessly with Draco in moments when he tried to distract himself over the last couple of weeks), he was in the air. The dragon roared and tracked him with her head. He feinted towards her, then soared upwards... and sudddenly it all became clear. From the shrunken aspect of everything below, he knew... he could do this. The golden egg, his goal, sat in the dragon's nest like just another snitch. 

He plummeted. The horntail kept tracking him, and predicting her moves was almost like child's play. He recalled Draco's advice again, this time about how long a horntail could keep her breath going, and he skirted the edge of her blast. He knew she couldn't see through it, so he kept it between him and the dragon, then, the instant it stopped, he circled, fast, hoping to disorient the beast.

"Great Scott, can he fly!" came Bagman's commentary over the enthusiasm of the crowd. "Are you watching this, Mr. Krum?"

All at once, Harry broke and dived for the nest. Draco had told him about one of the horntail's known methods for bringing down a flying wizard, and so Harry jigged to the left, hard. He felt the spiked tail catch on his robe and tear it half away. Harry kept going, pulling the dragon gradually further from the eggs she guarded too carefully for him to get very close. 

And at last, he got his reward. The dragon spread wings the size of a small airplane's and launched herself into the air after him. 

Harry dropped like a rock. He dropped faster than a rock, accelerating towards the dragon's nest, picking the golden egg unerringly out from among its fellows, and fleeing the arena with a terrific burst of speed. For the first time, he was perfectly aware of just how _loud_ the arena was.

+----+

Hermione and Draco were waiting for Harry outside of the tent when he went to go and get his scores. They both hugged him tightly.

"I was so _scared_ for you," Hermione exclaimed, adding a kiss to her hug.

Harry was shaking like a leaf now that the adrenaline had worn off, and he returned the kiss only shakily, listening with half an ear to Draco's description of what the others had done.

Madame Maxime gave Harry a very grudging-looking nine out of nine points. Crouch gave him nine as well, Dumbledore and Bagman both gave him a ten, and Karkaroff (Draco called him a slimy git), gave him only five points. 

As they headed back towards the castle after Bagman gave the champions their instructions, they saw a pair of students up ahead. getting closer, Harry could see that one of them was Ron. He was with, naturally, Lavender Brown, but as they watched, he kissed her on the forehead and she moved on to the castle while Ron came back towards them. Harry froze. 

Ron arrived in front of Harry with a frown on his face. "Harry," he said, very seriously, "whoever put your name in that goblet--I--I reckon they're trying to do you in!"

Draco's hand was on Harry's shoulder. He felt it tighten a little. Harry's mouth worked up an down for a moment. And then he settled into the next emotion that seemed sort of vaguely appropriate to the moment.

"Caught on, have you?" Harry said. "Not that hard to see when someone sets a dragon on me, but Merlin help us all if I get anything you want!" His voice slowly rose in pitch as he spoke. Ron backed away slightly, startled.

Hermione had been in the middle of stepping up to welcome Ron back from being an idiot. Her hand rested on his elbow, frozen at the very beginning of a hug.

Harry took a step forward. Draco's hand stayed where it was on his shoulder. "You've barely said three words to me together in _three months_ but I do something impressive and suddenly you're all about Harry!"

Ron spluttered and then he recovered his balance and fired back. "I suppose you'd rather hang about with your new rich friends the Malfoys then!"

"I'd rather hang out with Draco, who doesn't pick fights with everyone!" Their voices were growing louder, and Harry was no longer shaking from nerves. Now it was anger that set him trembling.

"You'd rather hang out with a bully!" Ron shouted.

"I'd rather hang out with Voldemort than with you!" Ron flinched at the name, and Harry repeated it just to watch him twitch. "Voldemort! Voldemort! Voldemort Voldemort VOLDEMORT!"

Hermione started dragging Ron towards the castle. "Come on, Ronald Weasley, leave him _alone,_ " she hissed, and soon she was dragging him in earnest. They vanished out of sight, and Harry stood trembling, with Draco's hand on his shoulder the only comfort in the world.

Draco stepped forward, and his other hand came up to Harry's other shoulder. "You all right?" he asked.

Harry shook his head. There was no one else around. For that, at least, he could be grateful. No one else had seen his ugly little display. Tears started to well up in his eyes, and Draco pulled him into a quick hug, then gripped Harry by the elbow and led him off towards the castle. Harry had just enough presence of mind to keep a deathgrip on his golden egg. He let Draco lead him through the corridors and into an empty classroom. Draco aimed his wand generally at the door, which sealed itself shut.

"All right," Draco said.

The tears that had come up in Harry's eyes spilled over at last, and he clung to Draco. He sank down to the floor, and Draco dropped with him, sympathy and obvious affection etched in his face. After a while, while sobs wracked Harry still, Draco moved behind him. He pulled the tattered remains of Harry's robe away, leaving him in jeans and an old jumper. Draco's hands worked in small, soothing circles on Harry's back, and slowly, haltingly, the tears stopped. Harry wiped at his eyes.

Draco scooted forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna stop right there, because it's six in the morning and I am a glorious bastard. Also, going anywhere past that point would require about another three scenes to stop being a bad place to stop, and this is already a ridiculously long chapter.
> 
> Harry gets a different point total because he didn't get injured this time. I actually had the book open right next to me while I was writing that scene. He got three points more, one each from Maxime, Dumbledore, and Karkaroff.
> 
> So, how 'bout that Sirius? So far, he's been surprisingly easy to write, but that will probably change. I have a lot of plans for Sirius. For one thing, there are plenty of different ways I could make it so he lives in this story. Frankly, fifth year is going to be so different it's flibbity-flabbin amazing. We're talking about major plot alterations.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frank Sinatra rocks.
> 
> That is all.

Draco's arms slid around Harry's waist, and he rested his chin on Harry's shoulder.

"Merlin, Draco, I'm a mess," Harry muttered quietly.

Draco didn't say anything. Harry took in a deep breath. With Draco so close, he could smell him. Polished wood and dessert wafted over Harry, and he found himself leaning back against Draco. His eyes drifted closed.

Draco's left hand slowly began to drag in circles across Harry's chest. _I should get up,_ Harry thought, but he didn't move. When Draco's hand slipped inside of Harry's jeans, the Slytherin let out a satisfied sigh; Harry was ready for him. He fumbled the jeans open with one hand, and took hold of the one very intimate part of Harry that he was seeking.

Harry gasped, but what should, to ease his conscience if nothing else, have been a noise of protest was a clear whimper for Draco to keep going. Draco went from holding him gently, his hand underneath Harry's pants, to pulling him completely out.

"Draco," Harry whispered at last, and Draco turned his head. A gentle kiss brushed across Harry's cheek, and he turned to meet it with his lips. He felt aware, for more keenly aware than usual. Draco's legs were splayed to either side of his body, laid out flat against Harry's. Harry was sitting cross-legged on the floor, leaning back, now, against him. He could feel every inch of Draco's body against his, and he would have expected it to feel electric, as his hands gripped the firm flesh of Draco's legs through the soft fabric, but the truth was that it was pleasant, but any electricity was confined to his lips, where Draco kissed, and his...

Harry let out a soft gasp into Draco's mouth as he reached his climax. He sagged against Draco, and his hands relaxed on Draco's thighs. It was strange, he reflected, to have an orgasm and not to feel its aftermath creeping down his hand, though he was fairly sure he had some aftermath on his jumper. He was fairly sure it was a gift from Mrs. Weasley, and the thought of her disapproving look if she ever heard what had just been done to it was enough to set him wilting in Draco's hand.

He could still feel what seemed like absolutely everything. Draco was definitely aroused. 

"Hermione is going to kill me," Harry mumbled.

Draco nuzzled his neck. "I'm sorry, Harry," he said. "I shouldn't have done that."

Harry reached up, and, after a moment of hesitation, grabbed Draco's slimy hand. "I didn't exactly stop you."

Draco kissed his cheek. "You... I've wanted you for so long, Harry."

Harry nestled back into Draco's chest. "You have?"

"Since last year. And I just... I couldn't make the first move. I tried to stop myself." He shuddered a little against Harry, unpleasantly. "I tried... a lot. I tried going with Pansy Parkinson. When that didn't work, I tried going with Adrian Pucey, but that just felt... wrong."

Harry relaxed against Draco. "Adrian Pucey? Isn't he a sixth year?"

Draco nodded. "That's why it felt wrong. He's too much older than me." He sighed. "I really tried to keep hating you, but then you came to apologize to me... I thought I was going to melt."

Harry leaned forward, and Draco's hand reluctantly left his crotch behind, letting Harry stand up. "We really shouldn't have done that," he said, pulling himself together. Draco stood up. His slacks were tented out in front, and Harry forced his eyes up to Draco's face. "I'm sorry, Draco. I'll go up to the common room."

Draco frowned. "Harry..."

Harry knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't really help himself. He stepped forward for one more kiss, then he gathered up his tattered robe and the golden egg, and went to the door. He rattled the knob, but nothing happened. He looked down, saw the mess on his jumper, and muttered a spell to clean it off. When he tried the door again, it opened. He stepped out and caught a glimpse of Draco, standing there looking like Harry had just killed his dog.

+----+

Harry got into the common room just as Lee Jordan set off a bunch of Filibusters' Fireworks, but news of his loud, angry confrontation with Ron must have spread. There were no Weasleys in sight, and Hermione sat a little sullenly in the corner. People were celebrating, but a cloud of funereal depression seemed to surround Harry. He couldn't stop thinking about the look on Draco's face when he closed the door on him. A part of him wanted to get up, to rush away from Hermione's comforting arms and run down to the Slytherin common room and pound on the door until Draco came out. He wanted to cry and tell Hermione exactly what had happened. He wanted to go up to the dormitory and tell Ron he'd been an idiot and he couldn't possibly talk to Draco anymore.

Someone handed him a butterbeer, and Harry took it and started pulling as much of it back as quickly as he could. 

"Come on," Seamus Finnigan said. "Give us a speech!"

Harry swallowed past the lump in his throat. "Not really in the mood for it right now," He said thickly. "What with Ron and everything."

Harry had curled up against Hermione, hoping (vainly) that she could provide some kind of solidity. Instead, he just felt guilty when she squeezed him sympathetically.

"All right then," Lee Jordan said, clearly trying to fight off the dark mood with which Harry was infecting everyone, "Let's see what's in the egg, then. Go on, open it, Harry!"

"He's got to work the clue out on his own," Hermione said. "It's in the rules."

"I wasn't even supposed to _know_ I was facing a dragon ahead of time," Harry reminded her.

Hermione grinned guiltily, and Lee handed Harry the egg. A groove ran around the egg, and Harry pried it open along that line. He instantly regretted it. A horrific shrieking wail slammed out of the egg, which was completely empty and hollow, and Harry jumped, startled so badly that the egg dropped out of his fingers and thudded, still open, onto the ground. Harry's jump pushed him back against Hermione, and she yelled, "Ow, my boob!"

Harry turned red, and jumped up, grabbed the egg, slammed it shut, and escaped up to the dormitories. Ron and the twins were commiserating just inside the fourth year dorms, and Harry brushed past them. All three of the boys gave him an angry look, which, at least, had lost its capacity to make him feel worse. He didn't think he could feel any worse than he did.

+----+

Two days later, Hermione began to wonder why Harry hadn't spoken to Draco. "Did he say something to you that you didn't like?" Hermione asked at breakfast when Harry watched Draco walking into the Great Hall. His eyes tracked Draco's progress across the room, and Hermione elbowed him. "You need friends. Go talk to him."

Harry sighed. "All right," he said. 

He stood up. He didn't think Draco had been watching him, but the instant Harry stood, the Slytherin stopped in his tracks. Harry reached up to pinch a muscle in the back of his neck that seemed to have grown mysteriously tight.

"Draco," Harry began, but he got no further than that. He just stared at Draco, and Draco pursed his lips.

"Potter."

Harry's heart dropped down, through his chest. It smashed through the little bit of breakfast that he'd been able to force down, dragging his pancreas and stomach through his intestines, bounced off his bladder, and slipped out of a brand new hole in the bottom of his left foot, where, as far as he could tell, it rolled across the floor.

"Draco, I'm sorry," Harry said.

Draco swallowed. His Adam's apple bounded up and down. He looked down at the floor. He looked up at Harry. 

"I ought to punch you."

"I know," Harry said.

Draco turned and walked out of the Great Hall. He looked over his shoulder at Harry, and something deep down in Harry, a little knot of tension in the small of his back, liquified and dribbled out the same hole his heart was trying to climb back in through. He could lose Draco right at that moment, he knew, if he turned and went back to Hermione.

He could be sure that what happened with Draco was a one-time thing if he went back to Hermione.

Harry followed Draco out into the entrance hall, and let Draco lead him through the corridors, past paintings that had long ago stopped whispering about the former bitter enemies being best friends. Harry doubted that he ought to be surprised when Draco stopped before a painting where a red-faced man presided eternally over a pile of broken wands.

"Let me in, you old fraud," Draco said.

The painting opened up with a muttered, "Too right, I am a fraud."

Harry followed him in and pulled the painting closed. Draco stared at him. He took an awkward half-step towards Harry. Harry stood firm where he was for a moment or two more. He glanced at the wall. "Draco," he began, but the rest of the words didn't come out.

Draco watched Harry. Grey eyes seemed to bore like an earth-toned laser into Harry's skull. He tried again. "Draco..."

Harry took a step forward, his foot coming down hesitantly on the floor. Draco's face remained impassive. Harry took another step, more confident, and then the next followed smoothly behind it, and then he was taking Draco's hand, and in a rush, he took another few steps, and Draco stepped back, letting Harry press him up against the wall. Harry's hand dropped onto the fly of Draco's trousers, Draco's lips met his, parted as their tongues twined. Harry found himself pulling down Draco's fly, found Draco's hand wrapped around him, both of them almost painfully hard, rubbing and stroking like they'd meant to spend every moment of the past two days pawing at each other and were only making up for lost time.

Draco breathed softly as Harry's mouth left his. Harry was moving on instinct, his lips wandering down Draco's neck, over his shoulder, pushing aside his robe. Harry knew, without a doubt, that he was going to leave a mark, but he at least had the presence of mind to leave it where Draco's clothes would hide it. Draco began to sink down against the wall. When Harry moved to follow him, Draco grabbed his hips and switched their positions so that Harry was against the wall, and he kept Harry standing. A moment later something incredibly warm and soft and _wonderful_ enveloped his erection.

He looked down, and there was Draco, and Harry's penis was hidden completely inside of his mouth. He looked up. Harry groaned in appreciation, and leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling. He let Draco take him away to a new and frankly incredible sensation. When Draco stood back up, he didn't ask Harry to return the favor, and when Harry dropped to his knees and did it anyway, he was hesitant, and he nearly didn't do it. He was sure he wasn't doing a very good job, and therefore was a little surprised that Draco finished as quickly as he did. 

Harry swallowed, and wiped his mouth, and leaned back against the wall, finally sitting. His knees hurt.

Draco reclined next to him, and then he leaned over and laid his head in Harry's lap. Harry ran his fingers through blonde hair, tracing abstract patterns on Draco's forehead. He found himself drawing a lightning bolt, like his scar, with his fingertip. "What are we going to do, Draco?" he asked. "What are we going to tell Hermione."

Draco took in a sharp breath. "I don't think we can. Not... not for a while. If you think my dad was angry about us being friends... He still wants to have grandchildren."

Harry laughed, but it came out a little bitter. "We can't just keep running about on her."

"It won't be forever," Draco said. "I've just got to ease my dad into it."

Harry sighed, and he leaned down to kiss him again. "I think we're both going to be late for our first class."

"You've got a girlfriend to talk to," Draco said.

Harry swallowed. "She encouraged me to go talk to you. Draco, I feel terrible about this."

"It won't be for very long," Draco said. He kissed Harry one more time and then he sat up. "I promise."

+----+

Harry half expected Hermione to accuse him when he came into Transfigurations late. He had snagged a glass of pumpkin juice from the kitchen on the theory that if he kissed her, she might have a couple of questions about his kisses being... flavored. 

When he sat down next to her, taking Professor McGonagall's fifteen-point deduction for "inexcusable tardiness" in stride, Hermione looked over at him, and instead of tearing into him for the transgression he was sure was written all over his face, she said, "work things out with Draco then?"

Harry nodded, and he kissed her cheek to hide his fearsome blush.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Harry, you're such a.. a... you know what, there's not even a word for it.
> 
> Anyway, I'm hoping you didn't think this was going to be any kind of easy for Harry, did you? Between lingering feelings for Hermione, Harry's own hapless-idiotude, and Draco's slytherinocity, Harry's life is about to start getting complicated.
> 
> Oh yeah, and he's got the Triwizard Tournament to deal with, and Rita Skeeter, who, I promise you, will do her damnedest to ruin Harry's life here.
> 
> Anyways, notes added during the writing of the chapter itself:
> 
> Get a character his first handjob, character ends up more depressed than he was before.  
> I'm mean to the people I write.
> 
> I looked up human anatomy to see which organs Harry's heart intercepted on the way down, because I am a huge dorknugget.  
> Also, that metaphor was incredibly fun to overextend as far as I did.
> 
> My thoughts on chapter length are expressed by the last panel: http://www.amazingsuperpowers.com/2011/09/cosmic-game/


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Draco is my favorite to write, and I've figured out why: He's a blank slate. What we get of him in the books can be summarized as "pretentious dickhead with money who slowly becomes confused and remorseful".
> 
> As a tertiary villain, he gets very little real character development, and what he does get is open enough to interpretation that, if you assume that he's got some shockingly bad coping mechanisms, even this story is plausible. For the record, I don't believe for one second that Draco Malfoy, if you could jump into the Potterverse and speak to him, would confess to a hidden lust for Harry even if he totally trusted you and spilled all his secrets. I tend to believe that he's straight as an arrow, but that it's really, really fun to picture him and Harry doin' nasty things to each other, because, well... 
> 
> Because my theme song is track five of The Beatles album "Please Please Me" (look it up. There's your homework for the day).
> 
> That said: the reason Draco is fun to write is because his story, as presented in the books, gives you a lot of wiggle room, and practically begs you to assume that Harry almost never sees the "real" Draco, and even when he does, it's only in moments of extreme stress. He certainly never had a drawn-out conversation with him, nor do we see much of him. You can pour almost any personality you want into him.
> 
> Statistics alone, however, preclude the idea of Harry/Draco slash actually being plausible to me. I love when I read it and the author can make me believe it, which, incidentally, is the goal here.   
> But if you assume that ten percent of the population is gay or bi, and that there are about a thousand students in Hogwarts, and that about a seventh of them are in each year, then there's a little more than a hundred students in each year, which works out to twenty-five per house per year (although it seems like Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw get most of those, going by the numbers we see in the books).   
> Break that down, and out of the hundred students at Hogwarts, who, statistically, are gay and bi, ten (ish) are in Harry's year. Harry has a ten-percent chance of being one of them, and so does Draco, but probability is weird. If I've got my math right, they only have a five percent chance of both being gay or bi, and then you have to consider what the odds are of them ever not completely hating each other from the word go...
> 
> Anyways, I'm ranting, and I've got stuff to do and sleep to sleep, so I'll just refer you to the notes at the bottom of the page.

The first of December dawned miserable and cold, with sleet sheeting down on them and wind blowing the Durmstrang ship about outside. Even the Beaxbatons caravan, which looked like a much warmer place than the ship, seemed to be hunkered down miserably against the cold.

The last few days had passed in what seemed like one part guilty rush and one part blissful haze. Harry took to going down to the little barroom with Draco at night, sneaking out late at night. It was enough for Harry to get his dose of Draco, but every time he came back, easing into the dormitory so quietly that no one awoke, he had to fight down a surge of remorse.

Hermione was friendly with Draco, and that was almost the worst part. Now that Harry knew how Draco felt about him, he could see the light of jealousy in his eyes when he spoke to her. Draco wasn't friendly with her the way she was with him, but he was still polite, and it killed Harry a little to see them talking, as they did on the way to the Care of Magical Creatures lesson on the first. 

Hagrid had gotten it into his head that the skrewts, of which there were now only ten, might hibernate. His solution, nailing them into pillow-lined boxes, went about as well as could be expected, and while the skrewts were destroying the pumpkin patch, Rita Skeeter stepped up.

"Well well well... this _does_ look like fun," she said. She was dressed as opulently as she had been the last time Harry saw her. 

"Ah, shit," Draco hissed. He and Harry were holding back the same skrewt, their hands perilously close to each other. Harry's right leg was braced against Draco's left, and despite the fact that their charge was constantly on the verge of scorching their shins, Harry found himself, ridiculously, aroused by the closeness.

The last thing he needed was Rita Skeeter noticing that he was excited while skrewt-wrangling.

"Who're you?" Hagrid asked, but before he could get much further than that, Draco handed his lead over to Dean Thomas, who braced himself against Harry much as Draco had.

"Rita!" Draco called out. "I'm sure you'd love an insider's perspective on these fascinating creatures! Wonderful things Professor Hagrid's found. Of course, they've got a bit loose, I think that was Pansy's doing, her's got out, and it sort of went on from there..."

Rita Skeeter didn't exactly look happy about being taken away from what might have been a juicily bad interview with Hagrid, but Draco wasn't giving her a chance to escape. Harry rather enjoyed seeing the tables turned on her.

+----+

"You know, Draco, that was brilliant," Harry said.

Draco leaned against Harry's chest and inspected his fingernails in a self-satisfied way. "Really? I hadn't noticed."

Harry squeezed him. "It was. I love that you can deal with things like that."

Draco sighed. "I just wish I could use her the way father does," Draco said. "He can make her say whatever he wants. It's brilliant."

Harry took a deep breath and frowned. "You smell dusty," he said.

Draco gave him an odd look.

"And there's no more plums in it," he added. "But why dusty?"

Draco shrugged. "It's your subconscious, Harry. Don't ask me."

Harry thought for a moment. "When did you first notice you liked me?"

"Well, I _liked_ you when we met. You held your own all right, even though you obviously didn't quite know what was going on. But I started to actually _notice_ you about the start of last year. I sort of started hating you in first year, but..." He blushed. Harry couldn't help himself--he kissed Draco's forehead. 

"I love the way you blush, too," he said.

Draco grinned goofily and blushed a little deeper. "You love a lot of things."

Harry planted the next kiss on his lips.

"Anyway, over the summer, after second year, I heard about how you had supposedly killed a basilisk. I thought it was pretty cool, but I was sort of distracted. There was this boy who'd moved into a muggle house not far away from the manor. He was... well, anyone who lives near the manor is wealthy, but he was _handsome_ too. I saw him while I was playing two-a-side quidditch with Theodore, Gregory, and Vincent. Fouled up a quaffle catch, and it went right over the hedge. I went to go get it--couldn't send a house-elf after it, even if we had one at the time." He gave Harry a mock-fearsome look. "Well, I went out there, and the quaffle had bounced right up to him, and he said it was an odd sort of a ball, and I said... I think it was 'bluh,' or something of that nature. He was about sixteen, obviously hadn't a clue I was having a bit of a revelation, and I hurried right back into the grounds. Father wondered why I took so many walks that summer. Never bothered to look outside the manor, and I imagine he'd've been cross if he did."

"So your first crush was a muggle?"

Draco nodded. "Absolutely. But then I got to Hogwarts, and I started trying to go with Pansy, and that went over about like you think. She was understanding about it, at least."

Harry grinned. "And then you tried Pucey."

Draco nodded. "But while I was with both of them, I couldn't stop thinking about you. Well, except when Adrian did that thing with... well." He smirked a bit. "You'll learn to do it."

+----+

Harry varied his schedule from time to time, on Draco's suggestion. He would meet Draco at a prearranged time in the morning sometimes, too. 

It didn't take long, Harry was pretty sure, for Hermione to grow suspicious. It didn't help that Seamus Finnigan intercepted him in the hall coming back from one of his meetings with Draco only a couple of days later, asked for advice on a tricky Defense question Professor Moody had set, and wound up keeping Harry so long that he had to explain to Hermione that he smelled like fresh-cut grass, broom polish, and new parchment because he'd been getting advice from Draco on a cologne to wear to the Yule Ball, and then Hermione had asked him to definitely see about getting a bottle of "that enchanting smell," and since Harry thought it was fairly wonderful to be reminded of Draco every time he inhaled deeper than usual, he had agreed in a sort of dreamy moment that he thought he should probably have regretted more than he did.

Draco, on the other hand, provided a fairly easy solution to the egg problem: he took it to the biggest group of Ravenclaws he could find and opened it up. When someone yelled at him to "shut that mermish noise off," he had closed the egg and promptly taken it back to Harry, cheerfully proclaiming the usefulness of Ravenclaws. He also continued to run interference where Rita Skeeter was concerned. It was nearly enough to distract Harry from Draco's promise to ease his father into learning about their relationship. 

Almost. Harry and Draco quarreled over that subject more often than Harry would have liked. It was after one of those quarrels that Harry almost completely ruined everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That is how Draco would solve that problem and you all know it.
> 
> Anyways, I'm just gonna leave that there. Probably no update tomorrow, I've got some much more practical (read: publishable) writing to attend to, although Tuesday should see an update much earlier than usual, as work will be stepping aside in favor of a dental appointment, leaving me with what is commonly referred to as "jack shit" to do all day after that point. You might even be able to check my other work, "I'm Where Now?" for an update as well. There will be wolfos, a Kadabra, and some gamebreakery from my favorite universe-hopping sexual-freedom poster-boy (assuming I don't spend most of the day on the ol' 360).
> 
> What? Use writing for escapist purposes? That is a scurrilous accusation and I am offended! I just like.. to... um... write about gay people getting laid...
> 
> Okay, you may have a point.
> 
> Anyways, there's plenty of excitement coming up, with at least one or two chapters before the Yule Ball, which I promise you will be the most epic of clusterfucks.
> 
> Like, remember how in the books tons of people got their night fucked up?
> 
> It's gonna be worse and drag on for a couple of days. It. Will. Be. GLORIOUS!
> 
> As always, comments are encouraged. Talk to me, people I feel like I'm shouting into an empty room here!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyways, I've done a crap-ton of writing today. I actually finished writing a full-length novel I've been working on this afternoon, so, YAY on that.

Harry Potter was brooding, or at least that was what Draco would have said. Harry thought he was contemplating. His hair was dripping water down his back; he'd just got back from an icy plunge into the lake at an ungodly hour, which had done less to cool his temper than he would have thought, and now he was soaking one of the squashy armchairs in the Gryffindor common room. The golden egg sat on the floor in front of him, having drained completely on the way up to the common room, and his invisibility cloak was draped over the arm of the nearest chair.

Another freezing-cold drop of water slithered down Harry's back.

"January," Harry hissed. Draco wanted to tell his father about them in January, and Harry was expected to simply go on with his useless charade with Hermione until then. It would have been kinder to break up with her, even with it coming seemingly out of nowhere, but Draco insisted that that would cause problems.

"January?"

Harry jumped and whirled in his seat. Hermione was stepping down from the girls' dormitory. Harry didn't bother to hide his discontent. Hermione walked up to him and gasped. "Why are you soaked?"

"Jumped in the lake," Harry said.

Hermione forgot all about January and ran over to start casting drying spells on him. "Why did you jump in the lake?"

Harry gave her a blank look for a second before he schooled his face into an expression that seemed appropriately pleased to see her. "Draco solved the egg. It wasn't screaming, it was speaking in Mermish. I've been looking around for a place to listen to it underwater for a few days, but the lake is all I could find."

"And you decided to jump into it in the middle of the night without telling anyone where you were going!?"

Harry held a finger to his lips. "Hermione, you'll wake everyone up."

A more tender look came over her and she sat down in the chair with him. "Harry, what's wrong lately?"

"Nothing," Harry said. _I'm lying to you all the time,_ he thought.

"You've been so distant," Hermione said. "Ever since the first task. You hardly ever want to just be with me."

Harry sighed. "I'm sorry Hermione. I think it must just be the stress. Everyone either hates me or thinks I'm amazing, and that's hard to deal with. And I've had to figure out the egg, and there's schoolwork, and you know how hard the teacher have--"

Hermione chopped off the rest of his explanation with a kiss. She shifted, and kept shifting, and suddenly she was straddling him, and he was quite sure she was wearing perfume, and absolutely certain she smelled, as always, like plums. "If it's stress," Hermione said huskily in between kisses, "maybe I can help."

Harry swallowed. He and Draco had given each other blowjobs earlier that night, but he was certainly ready to go again, and Hermione was definitely stirring up a response, and he was frustrated and she needed some kind of reassurance, and oh, _Merlin_ that was her hand down his pants.

"Here?" Harry hissed.

"Nobody else is up," Hermione said. She undid the front of his slacks, and she pulled him out, dropping to her knees on the floor. Her bushy hair hid her face as she bent down, and Harry could feel her breath on him, warm after the ice of the lake. It reminded him of what Draco had done to him earlier that night. He jumped, and he leaned forward and pushed her away. Hermione stared at Harry with hurt eyes.

He knelt on the floor in front of her. Her hand still rested on him, achingly warm and pleasurable. "It's not that I don't want to," he said. "Obviously you can tell that I do. But I shouldn't."

Hermione stared at him, puzzled. "Why? Are you waiting?"

Harry seized on it, a plausible excuse. "Yes. Until marriage. I'm waiting for marriage."

When Harry got back up to the dormitory fifteen minutes later, unsatisfied and frustrated, he was, at least, quiet about crying himself to sleep. Being the Boy Who Lived had equipped him with some skills, after all.

+----+

When Harry told Draco what had happened the next day, he scolded him for being jealous of Hermione. It was a hell of an argument, but the blowjobs afterwards (three days afterwards) were probably the best they had ever had.

+----+

Sirius' next letter arrived a few days before Christmas, and, aside from some more about how Draco was definitely up to something, he said little that was important, although apparently he'd been about to suggest that Harry try literally the exact thing that Krum had with the dragon.

Harry's reply detailed the next task as well as he understood it (including the complete text of the egg's poem), as well as telling him that Harry was fairly sure he knew what Draco had been after, and he would tell Sirius all about it as soon as he could. Hermione couldn't understand why Harry was laughing when he came down to the Great Hall for breakfast the morning he made the reply, and since Harry couldn't tell her, he just said that Neville had tripped over his own feet in the dormitory and someone else had said something funny about it.

Christmas approached rapidly, and Hermione made sure to bug Harry about getting Draco to give him a bottle of his cologne. Since Harry was quite all right with the idea of spending the whole of every day smelling like Draco, he suggested it to Draco, who just smiled at him.

+----+

Harry awoke much more suddenly than he would have liked on Christmas day. There were a pair of massive green eyes staring at him.

Harry yelled, and scooted backwards on the bed, upending the house-elf who had just been standing on his sheets. Dobby crashed to the floor with a yelp, and Harry gasped, "Dobby! Don't _do_ that!"

"Dobby is sorry, sir," Dobby squeaked as the other boys in the dormitory started climbing out of their beds, curious to see what was going on. Harry followed Dobby out onto the floor, standing rather than sprawling unhappily as the house-elf was doing.

"Isn't it usually Halloween something bizarre happens?" Seamus mumbled. "Are we off-schedule this year?"

"No," Dean said, "Harry got chosen for Tri-wizard Halloween."

"Dobby is only wanting to wish Harry Potter a happy Christmas, sir," Dobby said. "Harry Potter did say Dobby could come and see him sometimes. And Dobby has brought Harry a present, too," he said, extending a present to Harry.

"Oh," Harry said. He pulled open the present and found a pair of socks. Which is not precisely the same thing as a matched pair of socks. One was bright red and had a broomstick pattern, and the other was bright green and covered in snitches. "Thanks, Dobby. Um... I got you..." Draco had given Harry a couple of little lessons on proper gift-giving, and since Harry hadn't thought to get an actual present for Dobby, he had to think fast. He opened up his trunk and pulled out a black dress sock and a particularly horrible old sock of Uncle Vernon's, which he handed to Dobby, thinking that he would appreciate the gift more than a matched pair.

Dobby gave Harry an expectant look.

Harry got a sinking feeling, and then he sat down and put the socks on. Dobby squealed with happiness and then vanished with a crack. Ron snorted with somewhat derisive amusement, and Harry turned to his presents. 

Most of them were much better than Dobby's socks, although the Dursleys had sent him a single tissue (Harry was briefly amused that they had actually managed to spend more on postage than on the present itself). Hermione had given him a book about quidditch. There was a photograph of her tucked inside of it that made Harry's face turn very red, and which he quickly tucked into his trunk.

There was also a present from Mrs. Weasley, but it was about as satisfactory a gift as the Dursleys' had been. Clearly, she was cross about his falling-out with Ron, and knew of no better way to express it than by giving him less candy and no sweater. Harry wasn't too upset about the sweater.

Draco's gift was what he was really looking forward to. It, too, came with a photograph, which Harry also stuffed into his trunk, but with a bit more care. The gift itself was a small bottle, and Harry gave it a small spray. Over the weeks, the dusty scent that had originally marked his encounters with Draco had changed into the smell of green tea, which Draco enjoyed. 

"Ooh, what smells like Bacon?" Ron exclaimed.

"Bacon?" Neville said. "I smell the greenhouse!"

"Sorry," Harry said. "I've gotten a batch of Amortentia-scented cologne."

"Oh, that's expensive," Seamus began, but Dean Thomas pushed past him and sniffed deeply. "It's got a lot of layers. I smell snow, and sawdust... but I think they used the same base scent as Seamus has in that stuff he slathers all over when he wants to smell good."

Seamus made a choking noise. Ron busted out laughing.

Harry could feel himself turning red as Seamus said, "Um, Dean, Amortentia is a love potion. It smells like... you know, things you love."

Ron was nearly doubled over in laughter, and Neville was trying to turn redder than Harry.

Dean froze, and his eyes got wider and wider as the implications of that sank in.

"Oh, no, Seamus," he said. "I didn't... I mean, I thought... Oh, no."

Seamus rolled his eyes and smacked Dean across the back of the head. "It smells like baking bread, those petunias your mum grows, and your hair."

Harry smiled and looked down at the ground.

"Oh, perfect," Ron said. "Now we'll all have to knock to make sure they're not shagging in here every time we come in!"

"Shut up, Weasley," Harry said. He gathered up some clothes and went to go take his shower.

+----+

Hermione was waiting for him when he got to the common room. "Neville says you're responsible for that," she said, pointing to a chair where Dean and Seamus were apparently having a contest to see who could get his tongue further down the other's throat.

"Yeah," Harry said. "Smell me." 

Hermione raised an eyebrow, but got a good whiff of him, and then she smiled. "Draco got the cologne for you for Christmas?"

Harry nodded. "I tried it out in the dormitory." He smiled at Dean and Seamus. "I may have forgotten to mention that it's Amortentia-scented."

Hermione blinked, then looked at Dean and Seamus herself, and then she grinned. "Oh, that's just cheating."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Draco cannot do things simply and logically, because he is too much of a Slytherin.
> 
> Remember my Draco/Harry rant a while back? Seamus and Dean are the totally plausible couple to me, mostly because they're background enough that all we really know is that they're basically always around each other, and occasionally they have opinions that are relevant to Harry.
> 
> Anydoodles, this sequence is one of the longest, most pivotal bits of the whole story. The next few days in-story will be more action than any other comparable period so far.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Yule Ball... you are so, so very overextended and full of plot.
> 
> Yeah, I'm not even halfway through this story arc by the end of the next chapter. There is what is commonly referred to as a fuck-ton of stuff to go.
> 
> Anyways, some thoughts, on Draco because he's easy to speculate about.
> 
> I think there's two ways to write Draco that remain faithful to the Draco in the books. I'm going for a funny, witty Draco who just comes off as an abrasive jerk before the main characters get to know him. The other way is the dark, brooding, deeply unhappy Draco, which makes for a compelling story, but one where you have to rely on your Harry, your Ron, your Hermione, or, god forbid, your Snape to carry the lighthearted moments. It is for this reason that i would love to see the adventures of the Weasley Twins, with their good friends Draco Malfoy and Zoloft.

Harry and Hermione walked down to the Great Hall together. Or at least, they tried to. Hermione stopped him for a quick kiss under every mistletoe she found, and Harry tried not to feel bad about deceiving her. There was a lot more mingling between the house tables, and Harry was a bit surprised when Draco brought Goyle, Blaise Zabini, and Millicent Bulstrode over to the table to talk and hang about. Cedric Diggory got in one the act as well, to Harry's surprise. He brought Cho Chang with him. Despite having Draco on his left side and the girl who he was, ostensibly, dating on his right, Harry couldn't help feeling a pang of jealousy that Cedric had the girl he'd been developing a crush on the year before.

After breakfast, Cedric pulled Harry aside. "Harry," he said.

Harry smiled cheerfully up at him. He felt good. "What's on your mind, Cedric?"

Cedric rubbed the back of his neck. "I wanted to thank you. For the dragon. I was sort of wondering if I should, but you were hanging around with so many friends from other houses, and I thought, you know, in the spirit of cooperation. Anyway, I thought I should tell you, if you're having trouble with the egg, maybe you ought to try taking a bath. It sort of helps me to... you know... think."

Harry gaped at Cedric, but he must have misinterpreted it. "I know there's not exactly a lot of baths here, but you can use one of the prefect ones." He started telling Harry where it was.

"Hold on, Cedric," Harry said. "I already solved it. I wish you could have told me this before I dove in the lake."

Cedric blinked. "Oh. Um, sorry, then."

Harry grinned. "Thanks anyways. I appreciate it."

He left Cedric standing alone in the Great Hall and found Hermione waiting for him. They walked along in the halls, and Hermione kept stopping Harry under mistletoe, until a loud voice stopped them.

"Harry, Granger!" Harry looked up. Draco was lounging against a wall, talking to Blaise. He stood up and gestured. "Two steps forward." He grinned. "There, perfect."

Draco strode confidently up to them and looked around. Then he looked up. There was mistletoe overhead. "Perfect," he said again. He leaned over and kissed Harry in a cheerfully overdramatized way. "Admission fee, Harry," he said, then he gave Hermione what Harry was sure was a much less toe-curling kiss.

"Go on," Draco said with a rogueish grin.

Hermione laughed, and Harry gave Draco a little smile.

There was a snowball fight in the afternoon, and given that it was Hogwarts, there was multicolored snow, and snow that looked like it was on fire, and some seventh year had enchanted a couple of snowmen to back him up, and everyone had an absolute blast until it was time to go and change into their dress robes for the Yule Ball.

Hermione left early, and then, about an hour beforehand, Draco dragged Harry off to the castle. 

"Your little stunt with the mistletoe amused Hermione," Harry said.

"Well, I wanted to try kissing you in public, and that was the only opportunity," Draco said. "I hear you set up a couple of your dormmates."

"No, but you did," Harry said. "I almost feel sorry for Ron and Neville. They'll be outnumbered by blokes who like blokes."

"How did I set them up?"

Harry couldn't stop himself smiling as he told the story of Dean's and Seamus' exchange. "They've been snogging all day," he concluded happily. "It's actually pretty cute. I mean, I knew Dean was cute. I have ever since I started... you know, going with you, but Seamus and Dean together are just... Well, they're pleasant to watch. They've had all the girls giggling."

They got to where they needed to part ways. Draco pointed up. While Harry was looking for the (nonexistent) mistletoe, Draco planted a kiss on the point of his chin.

Harry swatted him away and went up to the Gryffindor common room.

+----+

When Harry emerged into the common room to meet Hermione, he was floored. She had tamed her hair, which Harry didn't even know was physically possible, and she was wearing robes of almost diaphanous periwinkle blue cloth. "Wow, Hermione," Harry said, offering her his arm. "You look spectacular." He meant it.

They went down to the entrance hall together, talking about who each champion was going to bring. Cedric was obviously bringing Cho Chang, but Harry had no clue who either Fleur Delacour or Viktor Krum was bringing.

They arrived at about the same time as Cedric and Cho, but Krum and Delacour were nowhere in sight. As other students filed into the Great Hall, the other two champions remained firmly absent, until, finally, the doors were thrown in, and they entered. Together.

Krum was dressed in fairly elaborate robes that had a snowball's chance in hell of outshining the girl on his arm. Fleur knew it, but she still shot a venomous look at Hermione, who was putting up one hell of a fight to outshine her.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione exclaimed. "Look at Crabbe and Goyle!"

Harry turned just in time to see the two Slytherins, dressed all in green, like two dateless hillocks roaming into the Great Hall. Draco followed along behind them, casting Harry a Look, definitely the sort with a capital "L". He wore green a lot better, and the trousers he wore under his robes did things to his legs that made Harry glad his own robes had a good deal of volume to them. Draco, Harry was sure, was swaying his hips like that _on purpose_.

Harry tore his eyes away from Draco, who somehow managed to have a glorious arse in dress robes (likely something to do with the carefully applied silver trim on them).

Finally, everyone was waiting for them inside the Great Hall, and Harry led Hermione in. Everyone started applauding. Harry looked around. The house tables were gone, replaced by round tables that held a dozen or so people each. At the top of the Hall, the judges sat behind a round table. Crouch's place was taken up by Percy Weasley, who looked at Harry, gave a great sniff, and turned his nose up. 

Harry ushered Hermione to a seat at the table. There was a golden plate gleaming in front of him, but no food, which was puzzling until Professor Dumbledore showed everyone, by example, how to order food. Hermione made an unhappy comment about how much extra work that must have meant for the house-elves, and Viktor seemed to be deeply engrossed in conversation with Fleur, of which Karkaroff definitely didn't approve. Professor Dumbledore related an amusing anecdote about a room he had found once that was full of chamber pots.

Hagrid, Harry could see across the Great Hall, was flirting with Madam Maxime, which was unsurprising in the extreme. Eventually, the conversation devolved into Hermione teaching Viktor Krum how to pronounce her name, both her and Harry chuckling at his efforts, until Dumbledore stood, and, with a wave of his wand, sent the tables zooming to the sides of the room.

The music started. Hermione dragged Harry out to the dance floor, and Harry caught occasional glimpses of Draco, sitting at a table, quietly smouldering. Draco's eyes never left Harry, as far as he could tell, and when the music ended, Harry went to go and sit down next to Draco just to stop him looking unhappy.

Hermione dragged Harry back out onto the dance floor about the time Professor Moody relinquished Professor Sinistra and started inflicting his dancing prowess on Madam Maxime. The two educators swept past them, and Moody growled, "Nice socks, Potter."

"Oh, yeah," Harry said. "They were a gift from a friend."

"Dobby is a friend?" Hermione said. She kissed him soundly for that. Harry could feel Draco's eyes on his back. As soon as he could, he extricated himself from Hermione's clutches, but it took quite a while, and Harry eventually resorted to using Draco as an excuse.

"I think Draco is feeling a bit low," he said. "Probably doesn't enjoy having to go alone. I'm going to go take a quick walk around outside with him, all right? I'll be back before too long." He kissed her on the cheek.

Harry hurried off to Draco, and invited him to go for a stroll, just as casually as he could. Draco, of course, agreed, and they headed out through the entrance hall, to where the front doors stood open. 

A garden, sprinkled with fairy lights, twinkled and magicked at them as they made their quiet way through it, along winding paths between rosebushes. Professor Snape was talking to Karkaroff about something, But Harry and Draco were too absorbed in each other to pay much attention. 

"I thought i was never going to get rid of her," Harry muttered to Draco as they found a secluded place to duck off of the path into shelter. He kissed Draco gently, and Draco leaned against him.

"I'm surprised how much it tortures me to watch you with her like that."

Harry's arms slipped around Draco's waist, pulling him tight against his body. "It would torture me, too."

Draco kissed him deeply. "I love you, Harry," he whispered.

"I love you," Harry replied. Somehow, it seemed perfect that the first time they told each other that in as many words would be there, in the dark at the Yule Ball.

Draco pulled Harry down under cover just as an irritable Professor Snape passed by, hexxing rosebushes apart and scolding the various students who jumped out of them. Given the grudging nature of Snape's tolerance for Harry, he doubted the Potions Master would be happy to see him running out of the bushes with Draco.

Snape passed without finding them, and Harry and Draco watched him go, looking over a statue of a deer. A little beetle was making stately, beetlelike progress across the statue's back, and Draco prodded it with the tip of his wand. They were just about to start snogging when Hagrid and Madame Maxime sat down on a bench not ten feet away, whispering to each other. Harry felt like he was intruding, and he pulled Draco back and tried to concentrate on snogging him silly while they had the time and the privacy, but pretty soon, the professors' conversation intruded on them. 

"No, don' go!" Hagrid exclaimed, startling Harry so badly he lost his grip on Draco. "I've--I've never met another one before!"

"Anuzzer _what,_ precisely?" Madam Maxime said icily as Harry and Draco stared at her shadowy form rising off the bench. Harry cringed as he heard Hagrid answer.

Even Harry could have told him that it was a bad idea to reply, "another half-giant, o' course!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, Hagrid, you really know how to put your foot in it, don't you?
> 
> Why yes, I did include Snow Goons in this chapter, why do you ask?
> 
> If anybody is going to know how to make flowing robes drip sex appeal, it's Draco.
> 
> Anyways, the clusterfuck is only just getting started. The more astute readers may already have noticed that Draco's delightfully Slytherin plans are deconvoluting themselves very, very quickly. Rita Skeeter is going to cause horrific trouble for as many people as I can get her to ruin in this arc, and let me tell you, that is a lot of people.
> 
> If the angst gets to be too much, just remember that somewhere in that garden are Seamus and Dean, and they probably have their hands in each other's pants by this point.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here we go with Hagrid. He's going to put that foot straight down his throat now.
> 
> Be warned, there is moderately-detailed sex later in the...
> 
>  
> 
> Hey, why are you scrolling down? Stop searching for it! There's a story! Stop...
> 
> ah, whatever, you're not paying attention anymore. Enjoy!

"'Ow dare you!" Madam Maxime shouted, and Harry started trying, desperately, to retreat. He tried to drag Draco away, but Draco was still watching with wide eyes. "I 'ave nevair been more insulted in my life! 'Alf-giant? _Moi?_ I 'ave--I 'ave big bones!"

She stormed away, or perhaps, given her size, it was more that she hurricaned away. Hagrid sat on his bench, staring after her. He looked heartbroken, but that was only the impression Harry got from the set of the huge man's shoulders. Finally, Hagrid stood and wandered off towards his cabin.

"Come on," Harry said. "Hermione is going to start wondering."

He manage to get Draco moving, but Draco was numb and quiet until they were nearly to the doors. "Did he tell you?"

Harry shook his head. "Does it really matter?"

Draco nodded. "Of course it matters, Harry. Giants are horrible! Maxime was insulted because that's like if... like if you accused a muggle of being half... um... half... I don't know, what's the worst thing a muggle can be? Half Nazi?"

Harry almost laughed. "Nazi isn't a species, Draco."

Hermione was waiting just outside the doors to the Great Hall.

"Where have you two been?"

Harry sketched out the rough outline of what they had overheard, while carefully not mentioning how they had overheard it, and Hermione's eyes went wide. "That's horrible!" she exclaimed. 

Draco frowned. "You know, he might need someone to talk to."

Hermione seemed to think that over for a minute. "You're right," she said sadly. "Come on, Harry."

Draco looked ready to start wheedling Harry away from Hermione, but Harry spoke up next. "One of us might need to stick with him for a while. Why don't you wait here, Draco, and if we need anything, I'll come back for you."

Draco nodded stiffly, and Harry and Hermione trudged off to Hagrid's cabin.

They found him sitting inside with the door open, a bottle of wine clutched in his fist.

"Oh, 'lo," he said.

"Oh, Hagrid," Hermione said. "We heard Madam Maxime was yelling at you. Is there anything you'd like to talk about?"

Hagrid shook his head. "Jus' thought maybe she'd wan' ter be _hones'_ wi' me."

Hermione stepped up and pried the bottle from Hagrid's hand. "Hagrid, you can't just drink it away."

Hagrid took the bottle back. "'Course I can."

Hermione shot Harry a look that was full of commiseration. 

+----+

Harry was surprised to see that Draco was still waiting for him when he got back two hours later.

The Yule Ball had wound almost completely down, and the gardens were almost empty. Harry could hear some rather suspicious sounds coming from a rosebush to his left as he approached Draco.

"Didn't think you would still be here."

Draco flashed Harry a little smile. "I'm just _so_ concerned for Hagrid."

"You know, if you would get to know him..."

Draco sighed. "Something tells me he's not in a meeting-new-people mood right now."

"You're not new to him," Harry pointed out, "but you may have a point."

Draco nodded. "Of course I have a point. So where's Granger?"

"She's staying with Hagrid until he sobers up. And until she finds all his wine and hides it. Probably going to sit up talking with him all night." At Harry's words, the smile returned. 

Draco jerked his head towards the castle. "I don't know about you, but all this melodrama doesn't really make me want to dance. Not that there's much to dance to, unless you feel like waltzing with me."

Privately, Harry thought that he would like very little better, but he didn't dare to risk it. Instead, he let Draco lead him through the castle, to their little barroom. As soon as they were inside, Draco pressed Harry up against the wall. There was something new to his kisses, an urgency Harry hadn't felt before. He felt the outer layer of his robes pulled away from him, the cloth landing on the floor with a little swishing sound, and Draco's own robes began to fall away. They stood, on in front of the other, stripped down to shirts and trousers, and Draco pushed it further. The shirts stayed on, if only because Draco refused to stop kissing Harry long enough to take them off. Harry caught his wand in the moment before his trousers hit the floor. When Draco grabbed the wand out of his fingers, Harry knew, without a doubt, that they were going to go further tonight than they had before. 

Draco pulled him to the floor, and their lips finally parted long enough for Harry to pull off his shirt, though he had to do it quickly. He laid it out underneath him and returned to the warm haze of Draco's kisses. 

When Harry was just beginning to wonder if he could take any more without pushing Draco back on the floor and _making_ fulfill the promises his eager mouth was making, Draco sat back, pulling his own shirt off and laying it out on the floor. He twirled Harry's wand in his fingers, green sparks trailing from the end. With a flourish, Draco shifted the wand into a proper grip, and he pressed the tip into his hand. There was no mistaking the use Draco intended for the fluid he conjured into his hand. His eyes practically twinkled as he said "I want to get inside of you, Harry."

Harry leaned forward, kissed Draco, and guided his hand down towards his crotch. Draco pulled back from the kiss, his grey eyes suddenly full of concern. "If you don't want me to, I can let you get--"

Harry cut him off with a kiss. "Draco, if you don't start using that on yourself right now, I'm going to bite you."

Draco smiled broadly, and he spread the lubricant on himself. 

The first time Draco entered Harry, it could have gone a little more smoothly. Draco hadn't done enough to prepare him, and Harry hissed and waited for himself to adjust as Draco slowly started to push further in. 

"Slow," Harry cautioned him.

Draco kissed him, and he went slowly, but for a while, Harry wasn't sure if he was ever going to enjoy it. Then, Draco hit exactly the right spot.

Harry let out a sharp cry of shock and pleasure.

Naturally, Draco stopped moving. Harry wrapped his legs around him. "If you don't start moving again right now, I will start casting hexes."

Draco growled low in his chest, and Harry didn't have to start hexing. Ten minutes later, Draco came (thunderously), and Harry made him stay inside until he followed after him, bumping his head on the stone floor, and Draco finally pulled out, leaving Harry to stare at the ceiling.

"Shit," Harry said conversationally.

"Fuck," came Draco's considered reply.

"In a minute, I'm still recovering," Harry said.

+----+

In the end, Harry had to sneak through the school at what had to be at least four in the morning. He didn't have the invisibility cloak or the map, but he managed to avoid people by taking a very roundabout route. He found a bug on his robes that must have come in from outside and been on them the whole time he was in his little room with Draco. It looked like the beetle he had seen on the statue of the deer earlier in the night. He grinned as he flicked it away. "You've just had quite the night," he said to the bug. "Hope you enjoyed the show." 

When he got up to the common room, it wasn't quite empty. Ron Weasley was playing a chess game against himself, looking positively murderous, and one of the seventh year boys was trying his very hardest, by all appearances, to physically merge into one person with one of the seventh year girls. Given what he had just been doing, Harry found he didn't really have much to say about that. Harry started up toward the dormitory, and he found Neville sitting on the stairs, reading a book. Harry glanced at the cover. _Magical Water Plants of the Mediterranean_.

"Hi Harry," Neville said. "Where did you go during the Ball?"

"Hagrid had a bit of a disappointment," Harry said. "Hermione and I went to go have a chat with him."

Nevill sniffed. "From the smell of it, you had a bit of a 'chat' with Hermione afterwards."

Harry blushed. He hadn't really considered the fact that he and Draco had been lying on their own robes, but suddenly it was very apparent to his senses. He smelled like sweat, and, alluring, like Draco. He blushed fiercely. "I'd appreciate your not mentioning that to Hermione. She... er... might be a bit embarrassed. So, why are you out here?"

"You created a monster," Neville said. "Dean and Seamus have been up there with the door locked for hours."

Harry thought for a minute and decided that, on the whole, he'd rather not have Hermione walk into the common room in the morning and find him smelling of sex.

Neville let out a noise of protest when Harry brushed past him, but Harry just shrugged. "Not as though either of them have any parts I've never seen before."

He stalked up the stairs and opened the door with a muttered charm. Seamus and Dean were... still awake.

Harry leaned on the doorjamb with an eyebrow raised while his roommates extracted themselves from one another. "It's four in the morning. I haven't got a wink of sleep all day, and I'm exhausted. I'm sure we're all suitably impressed with your stamina, but if you take over the dormitory like this again, I'll get Draco to hatch me a plot to use on one of you. Maybe both. If you really feel the need to keep each other up 'til all hours like this, there's a few rooms around the castle I can show you."

His speech lasted long enough for them both to get something on to cover their relevant bits, and then he flopped facedown onto his bed. He was asleep almost the instant his head touched the pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can almost hear Rita yelling "WORTH IT!" when Harry flicks her.
> 
> So, there ya go, fans of explicit sexual content. That's probably the last there's going to be for a while. Right now, I'm trying to decide how long it will be until Rita Skeeter comes in to, as the old saying goes, fucking ruin Harry.
> 
> I almost had him wake up to an unpleasant surprise immediately. 
> 
> Now, I know in the book Rita takes about a week, maybe two, to break her story about Hagrid, but that delay is flatly ridiculous and I will not be using it in this story. She may sit on the Hagrid story a while, but basically, I'm just wondering if she sat up all night writing, or if it's the next day's edition of the Prophet she smears her next wizarding-tabloid-Pulitzer all over.
> 
> Anyway, Draco made a really, really good attempt at getting Harry alone right when Harry and Hermione went off to Hagrid's. If Harry didn't care about Hagrid so much, it would have worked, given a little bit of prompting from Harry.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy. Long one tonight.
> 
> So, this is the result of a lot of writing, and brings us to probably about the halfway point of this particular arc. Settle in, there's a lot to read here.

Everyone slept in the next day, except for Harry. He made sure to wake up early and go get a shower. He was drowsy all day , but he thought it was better than trying to talk off the sort of smell that had been so thick around him the previous night that it actually clung to his sheets. By the time he got back up to the dormitory, the house-elves had changed out his sheets. Harry waited in the common room, and before too long, Hermione came in from the girls' dormitories. She looked a bit careworn, and Harry felt a surge of guilt for what he had done, abandoning her to take care of Hagrid.

"How is he?" Harry asked.

"He'll be all right," Hermione said, flopping down onto an armchair across from Harry. "He's feeling a bit betrayed by Madam Maxime, but I think I've got him to stop drinking."

"Well, that's good, at least," Harry said.

"I think we ought to go try and distract him today," Hermione went on. "Maybe it's time he got to meet Draco. I mean, you know, actually have a chat with the new, improved model."

Harry felt he did well to display no traces of shock.

+----+

It took a while to find Draco. He was playing Exploding Snap on the grounds with Goyle. Goyle looked up curiously as Harry and Hermione approached, and Draco smiled, completely missed a touch, and every card currently in play blew up with a resounding bang. Draco irritably smoothed down his hair, but Harry started laughing. "You've got soot in your hair," he said. He started reaching out to brush it away, but stopped, a bit awkwardly. Hermione pointed her wand. Draco flinched. Not much, but it was definitely there as Hermione charmed the soot away. 

"You want to come and have a chat with Hagrid?" Hermione asked.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Draco said. "I mean, I know he's great with you two, but... this is _me_ we're talking about. I tried to get him sacked last year."

"Hagrid forgives," Harry said. "Er... eventually. But you being there will definitely distract him."

Draco shook his head, but Harry gave him a pleading look, and he got to his feet. "All right, I'll do it."

"Really?" Goyle said. 

"Harry's broken out the crup eyes. I can't resist the crup eyes, they're just too _helpless_."

Hermione chuckled, and Harry led the way, with both of them following in his wake. They found Hagrid in, honestly, much better condition than Harry had expected they would. He answered his door more gruffly than usual, and he watched Draco like a hawk, but that was to be expected. Hagrid served them tea without saying much, and Draco sat awkwardly, watching as Hagrid put down some scones. Draco reached for one. Hermione elbowed him in the ribs and mouthed "no". Draco hesitantly pulled his hand back.

"So, Draco, Harry's taken a likin' ter yeh," Hagrid said. "Ter be honest, I never thought much of yeh. Yeh always seemed a bit of a bully."

Draco cast his eyes down at his cup. "I was a bully. I'm sorry for that, really. I've been--"

"Yeh've been turnin' over a new leaf, I know." Hagrid gave Draco an appraising look. "Hermione says yeh 'eard me talkin' to Olympe, but as far as I know, yeh haven' tol' anyone."

"Draco would never tell anyone," Harry said. "For one thing, he knows I'd hex him until his ears bled."

Hagrid chuckled. "Yeh've really become his friend, haven' yeh?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, we're... uh... pretty close." He threw an arm over Draco's shoulders and jostled him amiably. Draco and Hermione both looked at him like he was crazy. Harry privately resolved to never do that again.

Hagrid seemed to be ignorant of the awkwardness of Harry's gesture and continued on. "Anyway, I s'pose I'm glad yeh came to meet me. It's good to know Harry's friends, an' since Ron started bein' well... he needs someone like yeh aroun'."

Draco flushed with pleasure at Hagrid's words. "Well, to be honest, I think he's a lot better off with me."

"Are yeh sure?" When Draco looked incensed at Hagrid's question, the huge man hurried to explain himself. "It's not that I don' think he likes yeh, it's just that... well, yer past..."

Draco sighed and took a long sip of his tea that Harry knew was mostly to keep from saying something rash. "I won't get jealous of him. I'll stick by him. I'm cleverer than Weasley."

Harry gave Draco a fond look and stifled a laugh at the last bit. "He _is_ cleverer than Weas... than Ron."

Hagrid cringed. "Yer callin' him 'Weasley,' too, Harry?"

"He's been a stubborn git."

Hagrid sighed. "I know, an' I've seen it. I'm not debatin' yer decision to break away from him. I just hoped yeh wouldn' be so..."

Hermione nodded. "Harry and Ron have both been a little horrible to each other."

+----+

After they left Hagrid's, Draco seemed contemplative, as though he was trying to puzzle out how he felt about the man. Soon enough, he confirmed it. "I don't think he's a bad person. You would expect a half-giant to be vicious, but he seems... sad."

"Sad?" Harry said, surprised.

"Sad," Draco confirmed. "Like he wishes his life was different."

The three of them spent the rest of the day in the library, working on the schoolwork they had ignored before the Yule Ball. Hermione wouldn't be separated from Harry, and so he gave Draco an apologetic look as she took him back to the common room at the end of the day. 

Hermione snogged him for a while in the common room, but she insisted on getting to bed early, but not early enough that Harry could meet up with Draco. He went to bed and caught up on the sleep he'd missed the night before. He didn't dream, which was usually about the best he could hope for, and he slept in a bit, but still got up in time for the owls to arrive in the Great Hall. He didn't get any letters, and he yawned and started into some waffles. Someone passed Hermione a copy of the Prophet, and he was startled when she burst out laughing.

"Hermione?" Harry said.

She handed him the paper, still laughing too hard to speak.

Harry looked at the headline she had folded the paper to.

**Potter's Dirty Secret**

Harry Potter's life has been a source of fascination to the wizarding world,   
but new evidence indicates that it is more complex than anyone previously  
thought, _writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent_. The Boy Who Lived,   
it seems, did so only to live a double life.  
Recently, Harry Potter made minor news by striking up a friendship with   
Draco Malfoy, the heir to the Malfoy fortune.  
"Of course, we were all surprised," says Pansy Parkinson, formerly a close   
personal friend of Malfoy's. "They hated each other, and then the next day,   
they were friends. If you ask me, it probably happened when Professor   
Moody attacked Draco."  
"Professor" Alastor Moody, the famously jinx-happy ex-auror Headmaster   
Albus Dumbledore hired to the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts   
instructor at the beginning of the present school-year, has quickly become   
famous throughout the school for his darkly violent tendencies and his   
sometimes-disturbing teaching methods. He is known to have "punished"   
Malfoy for a minor incident of misbehavior early in the year by transfiguring   
the terrified Slytherin student into a ferret for a short time.  
The damage left by Moody's unconventional assault was thought to be minimal,   
but many of his former friends are beginning to wonder if that is truly the case.   
"After Moody attacked him, Draco started being a little distant," says Theodore   
Nott, another of Malfoy's friends. "We worried, but it seemed natural enough,   
since he'd had a bit of a shock. But when he announced that he was friends with   
Harry Potter in the middle of a Care of Magical Creatures lesson, he stopped   
talking to all of us, except for Blaise Zabini, and Gregory Goyle. I think there's   
a couple of girls he still talks to as well."  
Still, Malfoy's isolation was no cause for concern, and many boys at his age   
will sometimes change who their friends are, but new and unexpected   
developments have altered Hogwarts students' views of the odd relationship   
between the Potter and Malfoy once again.  
A reliable source has revealed that, although he arrived at the Yule Ball, the   
traditional Triwizard Tournament dance, with Hermione Granger, who, it has   
been noted, he is dating, Potter spent most of his time there with Malfoy.  
Potter, whose selection as the unprecedented fourth Triwizard champion   
shocked his classmates this October, was required to bring a date to the ball   
for purposes of ceremony and tradition, but seemed to pay little attention to the   
girl who arrived on his arm. And this reporter can say that this is little wonder, as   
the same source that so reliably dropped this information also revealed that   
Potter and Malfoy took a less-than-innocent turn around the gardens outside   
of the school later in the night, sharing some very much less than chaste kisses   
in the bushes, hidden from passersby, but not from everyone.   
Their romance is not new, by the evidence of their own words: each was heard   
to profess love for the other, and, after a brief separation in order for Potter to   
maintain his charade with Granger, the young lovers retreated to a hidden   
portion of the castle where, it can be safely assumed, they did far more than   
exchange furtive kisses.  
After such a revelation, there can be little doubt that Harry Potter's life will   
continue to captivate avid Potter-watchers for quite some time to come, and   
that it will hold no shortage of complication for Potter himself!

Harry slowly went pale as he read the article. Hermione chuckled. "Oh, it's not that bad, Harry. Honestly, I've..." He made the mistake of looking up before he could master his expression, and Hermione trailed off. Harry's eyes darted towards Draco. Draco was watching Harry, his eyes focused and so intent on him that Harry thought he could almost see their grey color from across the Great Hall. 

"Harry," Hermione said quietly. 

Harry pulled his gaze back to Hermione and tried on a laugh. It came out forced and unnatural.

Now, Hermione turned pale, and then, slowly, but with a terrifying sort of relentlessness, the color came back up in her face. She stood, her cheeks flushed a deep, angry red, and slapped Harry backhanded across the face. He felt one of her fingernails scratch his cheek. 

Hermione drew herself up as tall and straight as Harry had ever seen, and she stormed out of the Great Hall. After a moment, Ron Weasley stood up and ran after her, shooting a hideously angry look at Harry over his shoulder. Harry felt his cheeks heating, and he wasn't entirely convinced his face wasn't going to catch fire. Everyone was staring at him, people were whispering, and Harry wanted to slide under the table and never come back out.

He turned to look at Draco, and Draco was bright red, sitting perfectly still while Blaise spoke to him. Harry thought, briefly, of trying to drown himself in one of the syrup containers. He stared at his plate, but his appetite was gone, the waffles suddenly very unappetizing. A hand came down on his shoulder, and Harry jumped. He turned around, and Draco caught him up in an embrace, and then planted a firm kiss on his lips. "Come on," Draco said. He started leading Harry out of the Great Hall, but Harry was a bit too dazed to move, so Draco kissed him again, and finally, Harry managed to pull himself together enough to follow Draco out. To follow his boyfriend out, he thought. He kept a firm hold on Draco's hand and let him lead the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rita Skeeter is a horrible, horrible vulture of a woman. We all know this to be true.
> 
> Anyway, the rest of this arc will be consequences, consequences, horribly awkward conversations, consequences.
> 
> So, much more in line with my usual writing style of "make the characters miserable" than much of this has been.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Consequences, part 1!
> 
> Short chapter today, as I am exhausted. Running a D20 campaign with a party split into three parts is exhausting!

They found themselves in the Owlery. Draco sat against the wall, and Harry leaned against him. He swallowed. "Draco, there's some things you need to know."

Draco squeezed Harry. "What is it?"

Harry took a deep breath, and then another, steadying himself. "Draco, I trust you. You make me feel... I can't even describe it." He turned in Draco's arms until he was leaning the side of his head on Draco's chest, curled up against him. "I want you to know all about me. Um... I told you a lot, but there's something I haven't told you."

"Now that everyone knows about us," Draco said. There was a note of irritation in his voice that Harry was still keeping something from him.

"It's not just about me," he said. "That's why I haven't told you yet."

Draco sighed and kissed Harry's cheek. "Tell me about it."

Harry burrowed himself up against Draco's chest a little more. "I'm... I know where Sirius Black is."

Draco stiffened, and Harry waited for the explosion, but it didn't come. "This is a bit more than the Polyjuice story, isn't it?"

Harry nodded. "Sirius is innocent," he began, and from there, he told Draco the whole sorry tale of his godfather's misfortunes. When he was finished with his story, Draco held onto him, watching the owls on their roosts. "Draco?" Harry said. 

Draco kissed him again. "I wish you'd told me earlier. My father always said Black was an idiot, but he never said he was innocent. I'm not certain he knows."

Harry swallowed. "Sirius is going to want to meet you. And I want you to meet him, too. Right now, you and Sirius are the only people I really have, and I want you to know each other."

"If Dumbledore is helping to make sure that he's safe... I'm not certain Dumbledore will trust me enough for that, Harry."

Harry pulled himself a little more upright and planted a firm kiss on Draco's lips with a determined air. "He can trust you, or I can stop paying attention to a word he says. I love you, Draco." He got a giddy little rush at the words. "If Professor Dumbledore can't get used to you..." He trailed off, and they sat together for a while longer. A few students came through the Owlery, but mostly, Harry and Draco were left alone until the regular clicking of a cane on stone floors began to echo from the walls. Draco sat bolt upright, and, gently, Harry soothed him with a hand on his back, and soft lips on his jaw, so that when Lucius Malfoy stepped into the Owlery, the very picture of cold disdain, Draco was relaxed and quiet.

The elder Malfoy glared at them, piled together against the wall like discarded firewood. His eyes flashed over Harry and dismissed him as unworthy of attention. "Draco. I had hoped that Rita's article was untrue. Imagine, then, my disappointment when I arrived here to discover that you had caused a scene by making a display of yourself with Potter. You will cease pursuing this pointless relationship, or you will face the sharpest consequences I can bring about."

Harry stared. The color had risen in Lucius Malfoy's cheeks. He was, by all appearances, slightly angry with Draco. Harry would have bet half the contents of his vault in Gringotts that cool, collected Malfoy was so livid he was on the verge of striking his son.

"No," Draco said. "I won't leave Harry. And you know, Father, that I won't be budged on this."

Harry's hand found Draco's, and he squeezed it. Draco's thumb wandered over the back of Harry's hand, stroking it gently.

Lucius glared at his son. For a moment, Harry thought he might be about to surrender, to submit to Draco's determination and leave them in peace, but then the hand on his cane tightened, and he drew himself up to his full height, although Harry would have sworn he hadn't been slouching in the least before. "You choose to dishonor the House of Malfoy, to take up with an enemy of your family. You will be given no right to the Malfoy vault in Gringotts. I withdraw my legal support from you, and I deny you shelter at Malfoy Manor." 

With each pronouncement, Draco stiffened in shock, so that when his father walked out, he was nearly trembling with tension against Harry.

"He's... I can't believe it."

Harry stood up, pulling Draco tight against him. "Draco... you've got me. And I promise, I'll make sure you're taken care of."

Draco nodded, then he rested his head against Harry's shoulder. "I know you will."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, Lucius took that about as well as expected. The father-son relationship here is extremely complex, and very tense.
> 
> Fortunately, Harry is being very, very cute earlier in the chapter, so it all balances out.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another relatively short chapter. Got some Dumbledore in. He's very hard to write.

Their next visitor got a little more respect. Professor Dumbledore wandered into the Owlery, making a very poor showing of looking like he had a letter to send. Harry watched as Dumbledore looked around for an owl, very casually spotted him curled up with Draco, and walked over to them. 

"Hello, Harry," the professor said. "How unexpected. And Mister Malfoy, as well."

"Hello, Professor," Harry said, deciding to accept the inevitable and prompt the next part of the conversation instead of making Dumbledore work his way around to a tortured segue. "I haven't spoken with you in a while."

"No," Professor Dumbledore said. "Well, we might as well correct that. Why don't you and Mister Malfoy come up to my office?"

Harry stood up. He didn't bother to mention that Dumbledore hadn't actually sent the letter that was in his hand. Draco followed hesitantly as Dumbledore led them out of the Owlery and through the school. Harry gripped his hand, looking up at the sky when they passed windows. The sun had passed its zenith, and the shadows were beginning to lengthen. Harry thought longingly of broomstick riding with Draco in the grounds, but Dumbledore was leading them too fast for him to really start regretting.

Students stared as they passed, and Harry gripped Draco's hand tighter. Dumbledore stopped in front of the gargoyle in front of his office. "This is where it is?" Draco asked.

"Certainly," Professor Dumbledore said.

"I haven't got all day," the gargoyle said irritably. "Well, I suppose I do, but I'd rather not listen to your conversations."

Dumbledore nodded, waving at the gargoyle. "Fizzing Whizbee," he said conversationally. "I don't normally show my office to my students, and usually it's not a good thing when a student comes here." He led them up the spiral staircase, and opened the door at the top. Various polished instruments of variously mysterious purposes whirred and bubbled, ticked and trickled on little tables. Dumbledore walked to an easy chair and sat down, and a pair of red and green armchairs appeared. Harry took one and Draco took the other. Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling over his half-moon spectacles. "Would you like some tea?"

Harry realized, on hearing the question, that he was famished. "Yes," he said, and five minutes later, he and Draco were eating biscuits and drinking tea--black for Harry and green for Draco. Dumbledore still hadn't spoken except about the tea, and he was sipping his own cup of chai and watching them carefully. "You know," he said finally, "I was unpleasantly surprised by your behavior this morning, Harry. Of course, I have been unpleasantly surprised by your behavior for some time."

"You knew," Harry said flatly.

"Yes," Dumbledore said. "But of course, it would be extremely inappropriate for me to interfere in a student's love life. Nevertheless, your behavior has been a cause for concern, particularly your treatment of Miss Granger." Harry flushed brightly. "I confess I have no idea when your affair began, but I do know that it went on for entirely too long while you and Hermione were still a couple. I also know that the pair of you have been doing some things on Hogwarts grounds that are not, strictly speaking, allowed. Naturally, I have little power to prevent them, but I am still disappointed."

Harry sipped at his tea, trying his best to look unbothered. He was failing and he knew it. "Draco and I... we started this right after the first task. I never meant to hurt Hermione, I even tried not to. But once we started--"

Dumbledore held up a hand. "I know, Harry. I have been in your position. Not precisely the same circumstances, of course, but things were... similar." He smiled with a sort of sad fondness and shook his head. "I will be frank, Harry. My own love did not turn out even as well as yours is now."

"That sounds as though you think we're doing poorly," Draco objected.

"Forgive me, Mister Malfoy," Dumbledore said, "but I know that you have been all but disowned by your father. And of course, the entire world is watching for the two of you to begin having problems. On the other hand, you seem to be very much in love, and so far, neither of you has tried to kill the other. It is always unfortunate when the person you love attempts to murder you."

Harry looked at Draco, who was staring in open-mouthed astonishment at Dumbledore. Harry, at least, was used to the totally bizarre things Dumbledore said from time to time. Draco hadn't yet learned to sift reason from the meanderings.

Harry frowned. "Did someone do that to you, Professor?"

Dumbledore nodded. "It is not a proud chapter in my life. Harry, I would like you to know that I support you, but I must also caution you to be wary. It is unwise to--"

Harry stood up. "Come on, Draco." He took Draco's hand. Draco let out a startled noise and his tea sloshed in the cup. "Harry!"

"Harry, wait," Professor Dumbledore said. "You should allow me to finish. It is unwise to rush headlong into a romance based on an infatuation. You must also realize that many others will distrust Mister Malfoy simply because of his name. Your path will not be an easy one. Are you both prepared to face the consequences of your decisions?"

Harry and Draco looked at each other and nodded. They were holding hands, and Harry wasn't sure when he had taken Draco's hand. Dumbledore smiled beatifically. "You should also know that I consider you to be a far better judge of character than myself, Harry. I have often found Mister Malfoy's behavior to be quite unsavory, but you seem to have found a greater value in him than I could."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Dumbledore. You're alluding to Grindelwald because you think Harry might understand the gay. You're not saying everything because you're way too Dumbledore for that.
> 
> Anyways, questions, comments, and small fluffy dogs are welcome.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I've got a decent amount of chapter in this time. Adding in a little bit of plot, and carefully avoiding having to write Hagrid for the night.

When Harry returned to the common room, almost everyone glared at him and got up to leave. Dean and Seamus stayed, and so did a sixth year girl Harry never really talked to. 

"So you were running around on Hermione with Malfoy," Dean said.

Harry sighed. "If you're going to yell at me--"

"Nah," Dean said. "I mean, it was sort of a rotten thing to do, but I was raised by muggles, too, remember? I remember what it was like last year, after I... you know..." he looked over at Seamus, smiled embarrasedly, and then looked back at Harry. "Well, knowing how I felt and not being able to do anything about it because I was afraid everyone would hate me. Afraid Seamus would hate me."

Harry walked over and sank into a chair near the two of them. He whirled his wand over his head, muttering a spell to keep people from listening in, and looked up at Dean and Seamus. Seamus had reached out to grab Dean's hand. "It was going on for so long," Harry said. "But... it started after Hermione and I started dating. I feel awful about it, and Draco won't really talk about it."

"Give him time, mate," Seamus said. He reached out and patted Harry's knee. "How did the two of you..."

Harry blushed, remembering. "It was right after the first task. After that awful fight with R--with Weasley." He drew his legs up under him, not a position he put himself in frequently; living with the Dursleys meant that he had to be free to get up and move, very quickly, at all times. "Draco was trying to calm me down, and I was about to break down crying, and he took me into a classroom, with nobody in it, so I could let it out." Harry took a deep breath. "He started rubbing my back, and then... well, things got a bit... intense. You know, the sort of intense that you need to clean up afterwards." Harry swallowed past a lump in his throat. "I mean, he started it, but it all felt so... I mean, I felt awful knowing what I'd done, but at the same time I wanted to run down to the Slytherin common room and grab him and kiss him until his lips started bleeding. I tried not talking to him, but Hermione put a stop to that. She didn't even know what she was doing. When I went to talk to him after the first time..."

Dean chuckled. "I thought it was a bit weird you two stopped talking to each other and then turned totally inseparable after one little chat."

"We didn't really do much chatting," Harry said. "I seem to recall my mouth was full."

Seamus snorted with laughter.

+----+

Harry had a hard time getting to sleep that night. At least Dean and Seamus went up to the dormitory with him, and they kept anyone from being awful to him, but Ron certainly tried it, and even Neville was distant. He tossed and turned all night, and when he finally got to sleep, he had a nightmare, Voldemort chasing him through the halls of Hogwarts between classes taught by Rita Skeeter and the Hungarian Horntail. 

He woke up exhausted and went down to the common room. Hermione was sitting on one of the squashy armchairs, reading a book. Harry flinched away from the sight. Her eyes were fixed determinedly on the pages in front of her, but there were tears in them. A half dozen other people were in the common room, but Harry ignored them and stepped up to Hermione. She didn't look up.

"Hermione, I'm sorry," Harry said. "I didn't want to hurt you."

"Well, you did a fine job," Hermione said. "I start dating you because I think you're impressively mature, and then you go and act like a hormonal moron with Malfoy, of all people."

"It's not--" Harry began, but the rest of the sentence faded as he realized it was a lie. Instead, he said, "I should have told you the instant anything happened. I should have said something."

Hermione still wasn't looking up from her book. Her voice was chipped off of a glacier as she asked, "when did it start?"

Harry told her, and Hermione nodded. "I was thinking about it last night. I sort of suspected that might have been it."

"Oi!" Harry looked up. Ron Weasley was stalking towards him, hands balled into tight fists at his side. "Leave her alone!"

Harry flinched, but all his anger and frustration abruptly bubbled up at the sight of his erstwhile friend approaching. "I was apologizing, Weasley!"

"I don't care!" Weasley snapped back. "You've done enough to her!"

Harry nearly hit him as he drew up closer. "Yeah, because apologies are so _hurtful_!"

"Stop!" Hermione yelled. Harry and Weasley both turned to look at her. Her tears had resumed.

"Hermione," Weasley said quietly. Harry stepped back. The look Weasley had turned on Hermione was the same sort of look he might have turned on her himself only a couple of months before.

Harry walked away.

+----+

Hagrid had turned them away when Harry and Draco stepped up to his cabin. It hurt, but given the way Hagrid had sounded, Harry was sure he wouldn't be obstinate for too long. Harry walked with Draco back to the castle, and when he spotted a convenient-looking nook, he pulled Draco aside.

"Draco, you need to apologize to Hermione."

Draco blinked. "Harry, I have no intention of--"

"Draco, please. For me."

Draco frowned at him and shook his head. "I don't want to talk to her at all, Harry!"

Harry leaned back against the castle wall. "You can't just ignore what we did to her."

Draco's face hardened. "I don't see why not."

Harry glared. "Draco, you're better than this. Try to think about it, don't just react like this because it's Hermione!"

"I am _not_ apologizing to Granger!" Draco shouted.

"Draco, please," Harry began again, but Draco stalked away angrily. 

Harry ate lunch alone a couple of hours later, and Draco didn't even come into the Great Hall during the meal, so he went up to the library and was working on schoolwork when Blaise Zabini sat down across from him.

Harry looked up. "Hello, Blaise."

"What did you say to him?" he asked.

Harry shook his head to clear thoughts of banishing charms away and peered at Blaise. "What do you mean?"

"Draco's been in the common room all day. He's been crying."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well done, Harry. You made your boyfriend cry. I hope you feel good about yourself.  
> Oh, wait.  
> You're Harry Potter. You never feel good about yourself. How silly of me.
> 
> Anyway, Draco has a hard time taking being told that he's wrong, especially when he knows he really is wrong. Somehow, it seems like "learning that someone you love thinks you're being a complete dick" was skipped over in his wealthy, privileged upbringing.   
> Shocking, I know.
> 
> I really liked the dream I mentioned here. Harry's subconscious mind is a titch fucked up.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, finally drawing this arc to a close. I am mean to the characters that I write.

Harry stared at Blaise. His brain seemed to have ground to a halt with the news that Draco was crying. It was just so... non-Draco. "Crying?" he repeated softly.

Blaise nodded. "He tries not to look like he is, of course, but he is. What did you do?"

Harry's gut reaction was to be angry that Blaise assumed it was his fault, and then to be angry at Draco, because he was angry at Draco, but something under the surface was just about ready to run straight down to the Slytherin common room and apologize for everything he'd said a couple of hours ago.

Harry let his head slump down and thud onto the table. "It was a lot easier when I was just running around on Hermione."

Blaise rolled his eyes. "You're such a good boyfriend, I can't see why you're having trouble with Draco."

Harry looked up. Blaise snorted, but couldn't hold back his laughter. "You've just smudged your essay across your forehead."

Harry swore and mopped at his brow with his sleeve. "All I said was that he ought to apologize to Hermione. We sort of treated her like... you know..."

"Like shit?"

Harry nodded.

Blaise opened his mouth to reply, closed it, opened it again, and finally settled on "there's no excuse I can give you that will actually make this all right for you, is there?"

Harry shook his head and squeezed the bridge of his nose. "Blaise, can you make it all go away?"

"Professor Moody showed us a spell that can do that, but I'd go to Azkaban."

"Very funny," Harry said.

"If Draco said it, you would've laughed," Blaise pointed out. 

This time, Harry moved his smudged essay before he let his head thunk onto the table.

+----+

Draco found Harry at dinner. "We need to talk," he said.

Harry stood up and walked silently out of the Great Hall. Draco followed him, taking the familiar turns through the castle that led to the painting of the man with the broken wands. Harry called him a fraud, and the portrait swung open, and as soon as it was closed behind them, Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Draco held up his hand. He waved his wand in the air, muttering incantations, and, apparently satisfied, he nodded. "Go ahead."

"Why won't you apologize to Hermione?"

"Because she's _Granger_! Why do you want me to?"

Harry's voice was rising, and he knew it, but he couldn't stop it. "Because what we did to her was horrible! You just want to pretend we didn't hurt her!"

Draco shouted back, "You just want to make sure you can go back to her if we fall apart!"

"THAT'S FUCKING RIDICULOUS!" Harry screamed. His voice reverberated off the walls, the room too small to throw back an echo. Draco's eyes widened, and he looked ready to fire back, but then he clamped down, not replying at all. "IF I WANTED TO GO BACK TO HERMIONE, I'D NEVER HAVE STARTED FUCKING YOU!"

Draco raised an eyebrow. Harry stared at him. His expression had gone blank, the Slytherin mask Harry hadn't seen pointed in his direction in months. Harry's anger boiled up further. "WHY YOU CAN'T JUST ADMIT THAT WE WERE HORRIBLE TO HER IS BEYOND ME! TELL HER YOU'RE SORRY! OR ARE YOU JUST NOT GOING TO APOLOGIZE TO A MUDBLOOD?"

Draco gasped. "That's what your problem is? Harry, I'm not going to say I'm sorry because I'm not sorry. Every time I saw you with her it tore me apart, and I'm not going to ignore that. I'm _not_ sorry, because I got you out of it, and I can't be sorry for that, and I'm not going to lie to her, because she's smart, and I might not like her, but I respect her. It's not, in case you were wondering, because she's muggle-born."

Harry stared, open-mouthed, at Draco. "You... but you..."

Draco favored Harry with a very level look that still managed to contain a surprising amount of irritation and disappointment. "I'd think you'd have noticed, Harry, that being around you has broadened my views on quite a few things. I'm not sure why you would think blood purity wasn't on that list."

Harry's mouth worked soundlessly open and closed until his brain caught up with how stupid he'd just been, and he looked down at the ground.

"I think I do need to apologize to you, though. I should have agreed to come out with you after the second time we were together. I made you keep dragging her along just to try and prepare my father for what we had. I'm sorry, Harry."

Harry sat down. "You're still not going to apologize to her."

"I don't apologize to people if I don't mean it," Draco said, coming to sit down next to Harry. Harry hesitated for a moment before he leaned his head of Draco's shoulder.

"I suppose I can't really be angry with you for that. We've both just been a bit horrible to each other, haven't we?"

"At least it didn't take us three days to figure it out this time."

Harry chuckled. Draco snuggled up against him. "You remember what we did after the last time?"

+----+

Seamus grinned up at Harry when he wandered into the common room, mussed and smelling of sex, an hour after curfew. Dean was asleep in Seamus' lap, and Harry flopped into a chair across from them.

"Made up with your Slytherin then?" Seamus said quietly.

Harry nodded. "I hate fighting with him, but the end of the fight is usually pretty amazing."

Dean stirred a bit against Seamus and cracked an eye open. "'Lo Harry," he mumbled before squeezing his eyes both shut again.

Seamus smiled and stroked Dean's cheek. "He's a bit tired. Fred and George might have shown me how to get into one of the prefects' bathrooms, and we might have spent most of the afternoon in there."

Harry leaned back against the chair, his head draping backwards over it. "You had the good sense to spread it out over a little time. I've just... well, you know."

Seamus' little answering ripple of laughter was the last sound in the room for a while, until he said, "thank you, Harry."

"For what?"

"For using that amortentia cologne, I suppose. Without you, Dean and I might have danced around each other a lot longer. We probably both would have been wasting our time with girls. It's not as though we don't like girls. We just like each other more."

Harry nodded. "Well, it makes the whole day smell like Draco for me, so it's not exactly like it was a chore to do it." He stood up. "I'm going to bed."

Harry crawled up the stairs into the dormitory, and collapsed into bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First thing Blaise wanted to say: "who cares, she's a Gryffindor."  
> Second thing Blaise wanted to say: "Who cares, she's a mudblood."  
> Neither of these is a good thing to say to Harry.
> 
>  
> 
> Lordy, that is a monster arc. Anyways, that's that finished. Harry will have some reconciliation to do with Hagrid, but that comes later, and Sirius is going to have to crap himself with rage in another story arc, because his next letter isn't for a while yet.
> 
> Next up: Rita Skeeter is still a terrible mockery of all that is called "human."
> 
> Comments, questions, and angry recriminations are, as always, welcome.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decent amount of chapter tonight. Finally starting to refer to the book again, and it feels strange. Of course, with Harry having told everyone that he needs to be able to navigate underwater, events are turning out differently for this task, which was always going to happen. I'm pretty sure Harry is going to utterly crush the competition in this go-'round.
> 
> As far as this chapter goes, there's old women of varying degrees of mysteriousness, and lots of boys kissing, because, dance, puppets, dance, that's why.

Rita Skeeter dropped the second shoe the same day that classes started up again. There was a Care of Magical Creatures lesson that day, but Hagrid wasn't there. Instead, an old woman with quite a bit of chin and very short grey hair was standing in front of Hagrid's hut. She introduced herself as Professor Grubbly-Plank, and Harry was on the point of asking where Hagrid was when Draco came hurrying up. His nose had been buried in the Daily Prophet at breakfast, and Harry hadn't had the chance to as him what was so interesting. Now, he gripped Harry's arm. "We're going to destroy Rita Skeeter," he said. 

Harry shook his head, but the pieces fell into place before he could get too confused. "She heard about Hagrid, too?"

Draco nodded. "Didn't you wonder why I wasn't over at the Gryffindor table this morning?"

Harry sighed. Professor Grubbly-Plank was showing off a unicorn, and Harry glanced at it once or twice out of the corner of his eye, but he was too distracted by his conversation with Draco to pay much attention to the lesson. "How bad is it going to be for him?"

Draco grimaced. "It's going to be terrible. Some people are going to be afraid he'll eat their children."

"They're going to WHAT?" Harry shouted. Everyone fell silent, and Professor Grubbly-Plank turned a cold, judgmental stare on him.

"Are you paying attention, Mister Potter, or do I have to separate you from Mister Malfoy?"

Harry felt his face heating up. "Sorry, Professor."

"Do try to recall that your plans for your next date are not the most important things you are learning today."

Harry felt simultaneously like shrinking into his robes until no one noticed him and like shouting at Grubbly-Plank. Instead, he stayed quiet and let her get back to her lesson. Once she was thoroughly engrossed, he looked back to Draco. ""He must be in his cabin, hiding," he said.

Draco glanced over at the cabin. "I wouldn't be surprised."

Harry shook his head. "We should probably talk to him."

"I thought he didn't want to talk to us," Draco said.

"Then we make him."

Despite their best efforts, though, Hagrid couldn't be dragged out of his cabin. He remained stubbornly shut inside. Harry and Draco went back to the castle emptyhanded. 

After a few tries, they gave up on it and decided to let Hagrid stew in his own misery for a little while. 

+----+

Before the next Hogsmeade weekend, Neville came up to Harry, waving his book of magical Mediterranean water plants around. "Gillyweed," he said.

Harry raised an eyebrow. It was no secret that he was looking for a way to make a safe expedition under the lake, but somehow, he was still surprised when he read the properties of the plant whose entry in the book Neville shoved under his nose. 

Harry was getting ready for his first Hogmeade visit with Draco, putting on his nicest clothes and triple-checking to make sure he hadn't sprouted any spots overnight, and Neville's whole visit was so abrupt Harry had no idea what he was going to do about it.

He took hold of the book, leaving his shirt half-unbuttoned (Seamus wolf-whistled, and Harry winked at him) and reviewed the entry.

"That's brilliant, Neville!"

"I just read the entry last night," Neville said. "There's an apothecary in Hogsmeade that might have some."

Harry handed the book back with a big grin. "I thought you didn't much care for me after--"

"I'm not exactly happy with you, but I'd rather see someone from Hogwarts win the tournament, and after Cedric's showing with the dragon..."

Harry grunted his understanding of that and Neville shrugged. "I want you to win, Harry. We can talk about what you did to Hermione some other time."

Harry turned his eyes down at the floor. "I really am sorry for that. I never wanted her to get hurt."

Neville shook his head. "Just win the tournament, Harry."

+----+

Harry and Draco walked down to Hogsmeade together, and Harry stopped in at the apothecary Neville had mentioned before they went off to the Three Broomsticks. The air was close and thick with the scents of plants and potions. Something that looked like a pot of mercury bubbled in a corner, putting off a metallic aroma, and something else that looked suspiciously like a large quantity of raw Polyjuice potion blurped unpleasantly next to it. 

"Polyuice?" Draco asked, pointing.

Harry nodded. "Looks like someone mixed a lot of mud with a lot of snot."

"Anything else appealing you'd like to say about my wares?" An old woman said, standing up from the stool on which she'd been folded up. Harry had taken her, initially, for a pile of rags, something that wasn't in the least bit out of place in the cluttered confines of the apothecary. 

Harry shook his head. "I'm sorry. I was wondering if you had any Gillyweed."

The woman raised an eyebrow. "Tryin' to seduce a mermaid?"

"Trying to go for a swim," Harry said.

"I'd be a little insulted if he seduced one of the merpeople," Draco said.

Harry leaned back against him and Draco pressed a kiss into his forehead. The old woman smiled. "You must be Harry Potter."

"Yeah. I thought you would already have known that."

"My eyesight isn't what it used to be," she explained. "But a dark haired boy and his blonde boyfriend... Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy."

Harry grinned at that. 

"Guilty as charged," Draco said. "Obviously, I'm the tactful one."

"You're the Slytherin," the old woman said with a crooked, toothless smile. "Of _course_ you're the tactful one."

"Oh no," Harry muttered while she went off searching through the shop. "I'm surrounded."

Draco chuckled, kissing Harry again just for good measure. "We've got you exactly where we want you."

The woman came back with a little ball of unpleasant greenness, a plant that writhed with wiggly tendrils and was covered with slime, looking like someone had combined all the worst properties of asparagus, okra, and seaweed. "That's four galleons," she informed Harry. He winced a bit as he pulled the money out of his pocket and handed it over to her. She gave him the gillyweed, as well as some instructions for keeping it fresh and potent, and a little bag to carry it in. As soon as it was stowed away, Draco dragged Harry out and to the Three Broomsticks. They dodged Ludo Bagman by the simple expedient of ducking into a corner for a quick snog while he passed by. Bagman was trailing a coterie of goblins, about which the head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports did not seem entirely pleased. 

"So why the sudden snog?" Draco asked when Harry came up for air. "Not that I'm complaining, but..."

Harry landed a little peck on the point of Draco's chin before he headed off for the pub again. "Bagman. Didn't feel like having a conversation with him, so I opted for something more enjoyable."

Draco laughed, and they ducked into the Three Broomsticks.

Rita Skeeter was sitting at a table, wearing a set of bright yellow robes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first person who guesses why there's a big vat of polyjuice in an apothecary wins an internet-cookie.
> 
> Anyway, it looks as though Harry and Draco are about to have their first joint run-in with Lovely Rita that they're aware of.  
> I believe this is the point at which everyone else should start running away, for fear of being caught in the blast radius of Draco's sarcasm.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are again. Another perfectly good Sunday night wasted. Why, to think I could have been playing Halo again.
> 
> Yeah, this is more entertaining. One of my puppets has refused to dance to the preselected tune, and that delights me. Check the bottom for the full story on that, and in the meantime, enjoy watching a pair of skilled Slytherins have a slyness-duel.
> 
> Sometimes, I like being able to write...

Rita Skeeter saw Harry and Draco come in. That much was obvious. Her photographer from the Weighing of the Wands was at her side, and he followed her gaze to Harry and Draco. Skeeter's eyes went wide and she stood up, hurrying towards them. 

"Mister Potter, Mister Malfoy!" she exclaimed. 

Draco smiled. Harry was, needless to say, a bit surprised. "Rita. So nice to see you again. I saw your article about us. It was devastating."

"Of course," she said. "I tried to really capture the essence of what you were up to."

"You know, we were going to be gentler about telling Hermione," Draco said.

Rita Skeeter rolled her eyes. "Now where's the fun in that? The truth wants to get out, Mister Malfoy!" She reached into her bag. "Maybe you'd like to give an interview to give your side?"

"I won't," Harry began, but Draco grabbed onto his wrist. "I'll talk to her."

Skeeter pulled out her Quick-Quotes Quill, and Draco reached out and plucked it from her hand. "As is my right, I refuse to be interviewed using any magical aides."

"You can do that?" Harry said.

Draco nodded. "Of course you can. Most muggle-borns don't know it, of course. Most journalists who use these" (he waved the quill) "use them to prey on people who don't know better."

Harry glared at Skeeter. She smiled sweetly.

"Let's have a seat, shall we?"

As she took them to the table she'd been sitting at, Draco walked ahead of Harry. Nobody else, he was sure, would have spotted it, but there was an angry tension in the way Draco walked that was normally never there. Skeeter pulled out a chair and drew her wand, but Draco shook his head. "We don't need privacy spells."

"Oh, I insist," Skeeter said.

Draco shrugged, holding out a chair for Harry and setting the Quick-Quotes Quill down on the table. Skeeter reached for it, but Draco set his hand down on top of it, as casually as though the action had been unintentional. Skeeter smiled blandly at him, and Draco just met her eyes.

"Right, how silly," Skeeter said, reaching into her bag for another quill.

"I've got a spare," Draco said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a battered, much-abused quill. "It's a favorite of mine."

"I'll try not to damage it," she said through a smile that looked about as genuine as Harry's. "We should get a picture of the two of you together."

Draco nodded. "Hold on a moment," he said. He leaned over and whispered in Harry's ear, "I love you Harry. Just trust me."

"You know I trust you, Draco," Harry whispered back. He leaned over to kiss Draco, and the flash of the camera startled him. 

Harry looked at the camera, and then at Draco, who had obviously just gestured for the photographer to take the picture. He was about to object, but the look on Draco's face made him pause for a moment to consider, just long enough to realize what the photograph would have looked like if it had been taken while he was angry about the interview. He felt a sudden surge of pride in Draco's skill at choosing the right moment so precisely, which, he thought, was probably also Draco's plan. He grinned. "Might as well make sure your plans work," Harry whispered, gripping Draco's hand under the table. Skeeter smiled at them.

"It's so nice to see so much love," she said. "Let's get down to business. Now, how did the two of your become a couple?"

Draco smiled at Harry, and when Harry squeezed his hand under the table, the Slytherin replied, "it was a bit of an accident, really. He was with Granger--ah, Hermione, that is--and we ought to have not, but... if I'm going to be totally honest, I'd wanted him for about a year."

"It was news to me," Harry said when Draco squeezed his hand and gave him a significant look. "We were friends by then, but when we became more than friends..." He looked over at Draco and brought all his love for him up into his expression. "Wow," he concluded.

"It was funny," Draco said. "We used to hate each other. When I started noticing him, I was annoyed more than anything, but I didn't stop noticing him. Probably would have got over it eventually, but after that little unpleasantness with Moody early on in the year, Harry came to apologize to me. It was him I'd been arguing with when Moody turned me into a ferret, and he felt bad about that."

"Nobody deserves what happened to Draco," Harry added.

Skeeter smiled another bland smile. It looked like a snake about to strike. "I wonder how you're both taking the news of Rubeus Hagrid's parentage."

Draco let go of Harry's hand and stroked the inside of his thigh. Harry looked over at his boyfriend in thanks for the immediate comforting touch, and at that moment, the camera went off again. Rita Skeeter scowled.

"Well, he could hardly have chosen a worse place to talk about it," Draco said. "I don't really know him well, but I'd had a conversation or two with him before we found out, and I know Hagrid was never the greatest at subtlety. We actually overheard him talking about it at the Yule Ball, during that turn about the gardens you mentioned in your article about us."

"I don't care about it," Harry said when Draco passed the question along to him with a touch. "Hagrid is a sweet man, he's always been nice to me, and I couldn't imagine him hurting a fly. He'd be more likely to save it, put little tiny bandages on it."

"So he likes unpleasant creatures?" 

"It's more he likes all creatures," Harry replied.

Draco squeezed his hand.

+----+

When they walked out of the Three Broomsticks two hours later, Draco seemed quite pleased with himself. 

"You were manipulating me," Harry accused him.

"Me?" Draco said.

Harry laced his fingers together with Draco's. "Yes, you. You knew exactly what strings to pull so I would keep smiling through that."

"Well, would you like to see the article she would have written if she had a picture of me with you looking unhappy?"

Harry kissed Draco on the cheek. "Of course not, and you knew I hated it the whole time." He gave him another kiss. "Of course, maybe I liked being manipulated."

Draco gripped Harry's hand a little harder and dragged him off towards the castle faster.

When they got to the grounds, Harry pulled Draco towards Hagrid's cabin.

"I thought we were going to have sex," Draco complained.

"We are," Harry said, "but it's going to have to be later. Right now, we're going to talk to Hagrid."

"He hasn't spoken to us since..."

"I know," Harry said. "But we're going to make him."

Draco caught Harry up with a hand around his waist, and Harry felt his resistance crumbling. "Maybe we ought to work on a plan for that." Draco spoke softly into Harry's right ear, his lips brushing against Harry's skin. Harry shuddered and wriggled back against Draco. 

"You're manipulating me."

"Maybe you like being manipulated."

Harry turned around in Draco's arms and let the next kiss fall on his forehead, almost directly on his scar. "You're being very Slytherin today."

"You like it."

"Maybe we should come up with a plan for talking to Hagrid," Harry admitted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slytherin-offs are fun to write.
> 
> Additionally, Harry may be a little turned on by Draco's Slytherining, when it's turned to a good cause. 
> 
> I'll admit that this chapter went a different direction than I intended it to at first. Harry and Draco were going to be very angry and just sort of hatred (yes, that's a verb there, why do you ask?) at Rita the Hateful, but when I started writing that, Draco refused to say a single one of the tactless things I intended for him to say. I like it when a character I'm writing refuses to cooperate with me; it usually means that I'm getting a good enough handle on them that I know exactly how they'll react in a given situation. Harry is still a bit fuzzy for me, but I've been over the ease of writing Draco, and this is a good example of it. Of course, it's also a bit of a no-brainer when it comes to writing Slytherins. 
> 
> In any case, by now, the story has diverged hard enough that it's not possible for it to go back. Next book is gonna diverge even harder! Shit is going to, as they say in the business, get totally batshit crazy.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, huh, lookit that. Explicitness.
> 
> That was totally not my intention, but whatever. Enjoy.
> 
> Anyway, short chapter tonight on account of a glass of spiked eggnog and a general tiredness that it helped along.

Harry stared at the ceiling. They hadn't made it all the way back to the castle, but Draco knew an interesting variation on colloportus and the quidditch changing rooms were private enough for their purposes. 

None of this changed the fact that Harry was lying on his back on the same bench he sat on when he was changing before quidditch matches, but with a lot less on than usual, or that his legs were dangling more than a bit lewdly off the sides of it, or that Draco couldn't even fit up there with him and so was kneeling--uncomfortably, Harry was sure--at the end of the bench, watching him. Reluctantly, Harry pulled himself into a sitting position. It was hard to do it without using his hands, but he had no leverage. It took two tries. Draco laughed and Harry stuck his tongue out at him.

"Come one and join me on the floor," Draco said.

Harry stood up, grabbed Draco's hand, and led him to the showers instead. "I need to clean off."

"Harry, no one's used these since the _last_ time we hosted the Triwizard Tournament. They're horrible."

Harry caught up his wand--or it might have been Draco's, he didn't really pay attention--pointed it, and muttered a spell. The showers started up. He dragged Draco under one. 

"Mine," Draco said, snatching the wand out of his hand, but moving closer for a kiss under the showerhead. His eyes squeezed shut against the water. It was such an undignified, un-Dracolike image that Harry had to laugh.

"Now I know what you look like in the shower with your hair all soaked and all that Malfoy dignity gone."

Draco's eyes opened as his face popped out the other side of the flow. He leaned, so that Harry was pressed against the wall, and Harry felt him pushed up against him again. "There's no way you're even in the stream anymore," Harry teased. "You're not getting clean like that."

Draco's hands wandered down Harry's body. "We were coming up with a plan," he prompted.

Harry nodded. _He wants to talk this through now?_ he thought. "Yeah," he said as Draco's hand found his inevitably-growing erection. "I think maybe we've been too nice."

Draco caught Harry's earlobe and nibbled on it a little bit. "So what do you want to do?"

Harry managed to explain in half-breathless gasps while Draco prepared him with soft, insistent hands, and he counted himself lucky that his plan was a simple one, because it didn't seem likely he could have kept going after Draco slid himself inside. Harry's right leg came up and hooked over Draco's butt, pulling him closer and kissing urgently. That was apparently more than Draco could take, and his hips went from slow, languorous movements to a fast, frantic thrusting, and he let go with a cry that reverberated off the walls. Harry leaned back against the wall, letting Draco pull out of him. Draco's hand had slowed on Harry, but now it sped up again, and Harry leaned forward against Draco, splashing him liberally. Draco pulled him under the showerhead.

+----+

When Draco knocked on Hagrid's door, Harry was surprised to see it open immediately.

Professor Dumbledore stood on the other side of the door.

"Er, hello, Professor," Harry said. "We were looking for Hagrid."

"I would imagine so, else you would not be at Mister Hagrid's cabin."

Harry flushed slightly, and then even more when Professor Dumbledore added, "and by the evidence of your wet hair, you both took the time to shower and make yourselves presentable before you came down to see Mister Hagrid. A sign of respect, no doubt."

Hagrid was a fright. His hair was completely tangled, and he looked as though he had alternated between consuming entire bottles of liquor and not sleeping over the last couple of weeks. Harry suspected that Professor Dumbledore was responsible for the mugs of tea on the table. Hagrid looked up at Harry and Draco's entrance. "Hello, Hagrid," Harry said. "We haven't talked in a while."

"Get ou'," Hagrid said halfheartedly.

"Now, Hagrid," Dumbledore said, "that's hardly the way to greet a pair of your students, especially with one of them being Harry."

"After wha' he did ter Hermione," Hagrid began, but Draco interrupted him.

"That's not why we're here. We owe you an explanation, and you'll get one, but we're here because of what Rita Skeeter wrote about you."

"Come ter gloat?"

"No!" Harry cried. "Hagrid, we're here to tell you that we don't care!"

Hagrid pointed from behind his mug of tea at Draco. "He tried ter get me sacked last year. Tried ter get Buckbeak executed."

"And I'm very glad he escaped," Draco said. "Honestly, I felt awful about it as soon as they said they were going to kill him. Hagrid, I know Harry and I have fouled up, but right now we want to be here with you, as your friends. Please, Hagrid."

Hagrid sighed. "Yeh really don' care that me mum was a giant?"

Draco squeezed Harry's hand. Harry could tell that he was lying through his teeth, but he suspected that Hagrid, and maybe even Professor Dumbledore, couldn't tell when Draco said "of course I don't, and if you know Harry, then you know he doesn't care, either."

Hagrid gestured at a pair of chairs, and Professor Dumbledore waved his wand. "More tea, I think."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Harry and Draco are finally having their chat with Hagrid. There may be Chatting With Dumbledore: Part ii later, but I'm not sure. 
> 
> Either way, it's bedtime for Drakey.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, we're gonna skip a little time in this here chapter...

After quite a bit of explaining to Hagrid, Harry and Draco left, late in the evening. Professor Dumbledore followed after them. After Harry and Draco showed up, he hadn't said much, just let them do the talking. 

"I would imagine you've helped him quite a bit," Professor Dumbledore said. "Hagrid needed to hear what the two of you had to say to him. I think he'll be returning to his classes pretty soon." A pair of figures, one tall and one with unmistakeable bushy hair, split off from the shadows around the castle door. "Ah. And I suppose that Miss Granger and Mister Weasley have decided to come and speak with Hagrid as well. He'll like that."

Harry gripped Draco's hand. Ron shot them a very nasty look as he passed, but he didn't dare to do or say anything with Dumbledore right there. Harry sighed. Once Hermione and Ron were out of sight, he leaned against Draco's shoulder. "It was always going to be you or him, wasn't it?"

Draco's hand shifted from Harry's hand to hooked around his waist. "Probably," he said. 

+----+

Harry got his next letter from Sirius not long after Hagrid resumed teaching. It arrived in the morning, on the same owl that he had sent off to his godfather last, and he took the letter, stood up, and went to go grab Draco. When Harry waved the letter at him, Draco nodded his understanding and left with him, taking some of breakfast along for both of them. Harry saw Draco grab a little bit of treacle tart and couldn't suppress a grin at that. He had the feeling he was going to need some of his favorite dessert after whatever it was that Sirius had to say.

They slipped into their room behind the sad man with the broken wands and Harry sat down to open the letter.

_Harry,_

_I've seen the newspaper, and I was hoping it wasn't true, but I'm told it is. Could your taste be any worse? We have to talk about this, and we have to talk as soon as possible. Be in the Gryffindor common room at one on the morning of the first of February._

_Sirius_

Harry shook his head. "I'm going to yell at my godfather."

Draco kissed him. "Maybe I can help you calm down first?"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Can you blame me?"

+----+

On the last day of January, Ron and Hermione officially started dating. They spent most of their time in the common room snogging that night, having long since decided that they were better off pretending Harry didn't exist. They went up to their separate dormitories around midnight, and at twelve-thirty, only Dean and Seamus remained in the common room with Harry. The two of them had effectively replaced Ron and Hermione as his best friends, which Harry thought was funny. It was as though he had accidentally started a gay study group. Gay study group or not, though, Harry had to get rid of them. He finally asked them to give him a little privacy at quarter 'til, and was completely unsurprised when he heard Sirius' voice as soon as they had vanished up the stairs.

"I thought they were never going to leave."

"They're my mates," Harry replied, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the hearth. It was strange to see Sirius' head just sitting in the fire, his face calm. He looked better than he had the last time Harry saw him, happier and more well-fed.

"And Ron and Hermione?"

Harry looked down to where his hands sat linked on his lap. "I'm not friends with them anymore. Ron... I stopped talking to him months ago. Hermione and I didn't exactly part on the best of terms."

There was a long silence. "Harry, what are you thinking?" Sirius asked, his brow beetling into a scowl. "He's a Malfoy, he's a bully, and he's a Slytherin!"

Harry shook his head vigorously. "He's not the way you think he is. He's changed completely."

"He's a _Malfoy_ , Harry! He doesn't change!"

Harry thought back to the advice Draco had given him that evening before he went to the common room. He took a deep breath. "If you're so sure of that, then you should show me."

"What?" Sirius said.

"Meet him, Sirius."

Sirius' eyes went wide. "Harry, you know that's impossible."

"He's the only person I have left to trust, Sirius. I've told him about you." Harry took a vicious sort of satisfaction in watching the shocked look grow on his godfather's face. "When you meet him, you'll see."

Sirius gaped. "You told _Draco Malfoy--_ "

"I love him, Sirius. I'm not going to lie to him about you."

"You told _Draco Malfoy_ about me!" Sirius very nearly shrieked.

Harry watched him coldly as Sirius glanced nervously up at the stairs. "The next Hogsmeade weekend is the weekend after the second task. You should meet us there. You can ask Professor Dumbledore to help you if you're really determined to not trust Draco. He'll make sure nobody betrays you." Harry poured as much contempt into his tone as he could, and he stood up.

He was about halfway to the stairs when Sirius said, "Harry, wait."

Harry stopped. "What?"

"I... I'll meet you, all right? I'm worried, and I don't think Malfoy's intentions are honest, but for you, I'll do it."

Harry smiled. "I know his intentions aren't honest. He's always angling to get me alone."

Sirius squeezed his eyes tight shut. "I didn't need that image."

+----+

Somehow, Harry wasn't surprised when Draco wasn't there at breakfast the morning of the second task. It might have had something to do with Draco mentioning the idea of his being taken as the ransomed object. 

Harry was nervous as he walked to the lake. He kept recalling Draco's reassurance of the night before. "They're not going to actually destroy what they take." 

"I hope you're right," Harry muttered into the empty air as he reached the shore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, hands up if you didn't see Sirius' reaction coming!  
> Nobody?  
> *crickets*  
> Wow. Not surprising.
> 
> So next chapter is the second task itself. Crazy is gonna happen after that. Crazy and fun.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lordy... this task. Much of this is done with reference to the book, and it is late, and I am going to bed now...

The taste of Gillyweed was foul. Harry swallowed and waited, pulling his robes off so that he was just in trousers and shirt. The icy water was still so cold around his feet that it burned. People were laughing at him as he stood in the cold lake. Viktor Krum was already diving into the water, his head altered somehow. Harry was just feeling stupid, watching while Cedric did... something... when he stopped being able to breathe. He gasped, and the effort of trying to take in air hurt and did absolutely nothing for him. Just as Harry was about to panic, a sharp pain sprang up in the sides of his neck. He reached up and found that he suddenly had _gills_ , and furthermore that his hand had become webbed. He dropped into the water facefirst and took a deep breath.

The water passing over his gills--and that was a weird thought--cleared his head right away, and he noted that rather than frigid beyond belief, it was pleasantly cool, supporting his body. He could see for ages through the water, and he swam out into the lake. With Draco, he had gone over a few theories on where in the lake the mermish village might be, but aside from going out about towards the center, he couldn't think of any way to figure out exactly where he was in the lake. He flicked downward in the water and made a slow descent. A few fish darted out of his way, but no mermish village came into view. Instead, a bed of lakeweed hove into view. Harry skimmed above it, heading in the general direction of the middle of the lake. The weeds rippled and moved in his wake, and a few times, he spotted things moving in them. He kept his distance, and when a grindylow came up and grabbed Harry's foot, he turned and slammed his fisted hand down on its fingers. The creature let out a howl of pain and let go of him, swimming away in obvious disappointment. Harry pointed his wand at a few more that had started to come up to menace him, and they seemed to think better of it.

Harry swam on. 

"How are you getting on?"

Harry jumped and his course through the water faltered. Moaning Myrtle was floating next to him, suspended in the water. "You want to try over there," she said, pointing. "I won't come with you... I don't like them much, they always chase me when I get too close."

Privately, Harry thought that there was probably good reason for that, but he flashed her a thumbs up as he swam away. Soon enough, the weeds gave way to black mud that swirled beneath him as he passed. After about twenty minutes, he heard a snatch of mersong, a taunting fragment of the clue the egg had given him. Harry redoubled his pace, and soon a rock faded into view. Smeared onto it were pictures of merpeople, done up in something not unlike paint. The mersong came clearer, taunting still, reminding him that his time was about half gone. A few scattered dwellings came into view out of the muddy water, stone slabs piled on each other. Merpeople peered out the windows at him, their skin greenish-grey, their faces homely. Their eyes were yellowed and they wore necklaces of pebbles. Some of the mermish houses had gardens around them, and one even had a grindylow tied outside like a pet. 

As the merpeople began to follow eagerly after him, Harry rounded a corner and drew up short. A small crowd of merpeople floated between him and a crude statue of a merperson carved from a massive boulder. Some of them were singing, but Harry's eyes were fixed on the four figures tied to the statue's tail. Ropes of weed tied the hostages to the statue, all of them unconscious. Draco was wedged in between Cho Chang and a boy Harry thought he might have seen Krum hanging around with. A young girl who looked nearly as blonde as Draco was on the other end of the line.

Harry spent a moment or two tugging at the slimy, unpleasant ropes that bound Draco. He frowned at the ropes and took a moment to think. When he actually did think, it was incredibly obvious what he should do. He pulled his wand out, nestled it against the rope, and muttered, "diffindo." A bubble floated up from his mouth, but the rope split, and Harry eased his boyfriend out of the ropes and headed towards the surface, sparing a nervous glance for the other hostages. He knew the logic that said they wouldn't really be hurt, but it still felt wrong to leave them behind. He made his way up to the surface, and the instant Draco's head broke the waves, Harry saw his grey eyes open. Draco started treading water, gasping in the waves.

"Harry," he said. 

Harry pushed his face up against the water's surface, and he was about to speak when a wave washed over him. Draco laughed, and Harry led him to the shore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That is a lot of action and very little dialogue. There's more coming tomorrow, and a longer chapter, i promise.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the second half of the second task!

The other champions had clearly not emerged from the water yet. Harry watched Draco step up onto the shore. He could barely hear Ludo Bagman's commentary from in the water, and it was fairly boring under the surface. Draco came out, wrapped in a towel.

"They're taking a few points off because you're stuck in the water," Draco said. "It's not really impressive."

Harry bubbled something, but of course nothing he said was intelligible. Draco laughed and bent down to kiss him. Before Harry could figure out a way to talk back to him, Harry spotted movement out of the corner of his eye. Fleur Delacour was emerging from the lake, distraught and defeated-looking, with several long scratches on her face.

"Wonder what happened to her," Draco said.

"There are grindylows," Harry mouthed, pantomiming a grasping motion and emphasizing his fingers.

"Grindylows?" Draco said. "But we learned those last year, how does she not know how to deal with them?"

Harry mimed a fierce snarl and then a professorial look.

"Well, all right, so Professor Lupin was all right."

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"And I guess he was sort of good looking in a distracted professor way."

Harry continued to stare blankly at Draco, until Draco chuckled.

"I know, you think he's the best defense teacher we've ever had. I think Lockhart had a lot of value as an object lesson in what not to do, though. Not as good as Lupin... but when Moody's not being totally insane, I think he's better than Lupin. Teaches us how to deal with people, not creatures.

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Well, yes, but how often are you going to have to go diving into a grindylow infested lake to save your voluntarily-imprisoned boyfriend from fake certain doom?"

Harry pointed at the Forbidden Forest.

"And how often do you really plan on going in there?"

Harry gave him a cross look, and Draco just grinned. 

"You like Professor Lupin, so you're defending him. It's not really his fault, he taught us what he was supposed to."

Harry blinked.

"I have to admit, I liked him, too. I was surprised when he turned out to be a werewolf... Don't suppose it really made much difference to his teaching, though, they're two separate--urk!"

Harry pulled Draco down for another kiss, actually pulling his face out of the water--the air felt incredibly dry on his skin--to ensure that Draco didn't soak himself.

Draco smiled at him. "Should have figured that would get me snogged."

Harry stuck his tongue out.

"All right, so there wasn't actually any snogging, but you obviously wanted to. It's just that there's all these people about," 

Harry moved his pelvis lewdly under the water.

"And maybe I have a thing for showing off to others. Didn't you ever think about that?"

Harry rolled his eyes again, and Draco laughed. 

"You might have a point."

Before their conversation could wander into any more unmentionable territory, Cedric stepped up out of the water with Cho. Harry watched them step up to the judges together. 

Cho kissed Cedric on the cheek while they watched.

"You know, if you have more gillyweed," Draco began, and Harry finished for him by repeating the lewd hip-motion. Draco grinned.

They kept chatting like that until Krum emerged with the Durmstrang boy. He had transfigured a shark's head onto his body. When the boy's head broke the surface, he screamed and started splashing away from Krum. Harry almost went to help him, but figured that his own appearance might cause more alarm. Krum hastily restored himself and splashed forward to calm his friend. Delacour rushed to Krum's side, kissing him and speaking to him urgently.

"They're such a nice couple," Draco said.

Harry reached up to pat Draco's butt.

Finally, as someone dived in to retrieve Fleur Delacou's sister, Harry felt his gills going away. He stood up gratefully, and, shivering, reached out to take a hold of Draco. Draco wrapped Harry up in his towel and led him to the shore. As he kissed Harry on the cheek, a bug buzzed over and landed on Harry's head. Draco laughed and brushed it away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that entire conversation was incredibly fun to write.
> 
> I think it's probably the easiest way I've found to show how close Harry and Draco have really gotten. Every one of Draco's replies there was actually to what Harry meant (although he was being deliberately obtuse right at the beginning).


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The hardest part of writing Harry is getting his mannerisms right. Draco is easy, Hermione has quirks that make her difficult, and Dumbledore is just... the instant he's not being ridiculous, he's a mystery.
> 
> But Harry...
> 
> Says "er".
> 
> Er. Not uh. Not um. Not ah.
> 
> Er.
> 
> I assume this is a British thing, but I don't know for sure. I do know that it's contrary to my authorial instincts.

Harry was the only one to receive full marks. Cedric had returned just after the time limit, and Krum significantly after. Draco enjoyed a minor surge in popularity, since his version of the (rather dull) way that he and the other hostages had been taken into the lake was marginally more thrilling than Cho's. The Durmstrang boy Krum had had to retrieve was teased mercilessly about it, and took to muttering that they couldn't very well have used Fleur and Krum as hostages for each other whenever anyone questioned him about it.

That Friday dawned blustery and unpleasant. At breakfast, the owls came in with windswept and ruffled feathers, including a tawny, irritable-looking one that left a letter from Sirius and outright fled to avoid being sent back into the wind. Seamus leaned over to look at the letter, and Harry twitched it out of his sight. "Sorry, Seamus."

Seamus grinned. "Exchanging secret love notes with another boy?"

"My Swedish lover, Sven."

Harry checked the note. Sirius wanted to meet him and Draco on the road out of Hogsmeade, and to bring as much food as they could. Harry rolled up the letter and went to Draco to tell him the plan.

"Your godfather had better not be planning to kill me or something."

"I doubt it," Harry said. "Although... er... you might want to keep your wand close to your hand."

Harry was about to respond when there was an anguished cry from one of the girls down the Slytherin table. Draco and Harry turned as one and saw Pansy Parkinson gripping a copy of the Daily Prophet. She threw it down, and Harry saw a large color photograph of Viktor Krum with Fleur Delacour. They were both smiling broadly. Harry blinked. 

"Oh," Blaise said quietly. "It looks like Pansy's had a disappointment."

"She has?"

"Says here Krum's proposed to Delacour."

Watching him, Harry could tell that if Draco had been one iota less _Draco_ , he would have spat out his pumpkin juice. "Proposed?"

"Rita Skeeter broke the story," Blaise said.

Draco snatched the paper out of his hand and read intently. "She was there," he hissed. "How was she there?"

"Where?" Harry asked.

"At the second task. At the lake. Krum was talking to Delacour, but he was talking quietly. She must have an invisibility cloak."

Harry glanced through the article. Draco was right. Skeeter even said that Krum had asked Delacour immediately after the second task. "Didn't Professor Dumbledore ban her from the grounds after the Hagrid incident?"

"She's a Slytherin, Harry," Draco, Blaise, and Daphne all chimed at once. "That's not going to stop her," Blaise went on.

+----+

After Potions class, Professor Snape pulled Harry and Draco aside. He led them to his office and sat them down.

"Mister Potter," he drawled. "I admit, I have been hoping that your... romance... with Mister Malfoy would just go away. I do not find it pleasant to think of you consorting in such ways with the son of one of my closest friends. However, I cannot ignore your relationship any longer. Mister Malfoy does not have a godfather. The man who would have been his godfather died in Azkaban some time ago. However, I watch over him as though I held the honor." He rested his hands on his desk. "I disapprove of this relationship. I have told Mister Malfoy as much, but it seems that I am fated to endure your... togetherness... for some time." Snape's eyes narrowed. "I am told that Mister Malfoy will be meeting someone important to you tomorrow, Mister Potter."

Harry found Draco's hand. "That's right. Er... Professor. How... er... how much--"

"Professor Dumbledore was kind enough to inform me that a certain ally of yours, who wished to remain anonymous, felt that meeting Mister Malfoy was the only way to determine that Harry was making the correct decision. Naturally, I already have several ideas about the identity of this person. Professor Dumbledore, however, will not allow me to investigate."

Draco blinked. "Why are you telling me this?"

Snape did something that was not quite a sigh, but was closer to it than Harry had ever seen from him. "Much as I disagree with your rather questionable tastes in lovers, I disagree more strongly with your father's insistence that you cannot be allowed to choose for yourself. His distaste for your partner should not be so great as to cloud his judgement. In the unlikely event that you and Mister Potter should remain... close... for long enough to marry, his house will make an excellent ally for the House of Malfoy. And if it's heirs Lucius is worried about, there are many ways for their to be another Malfoy heir, even if Lucius insists upon continuing the bloodline. At the least, Narcissa is still at a childbearing age. He is reacting irrationally."

Draco's jaw slackened a bit. Harry's just dropped.

"I have decided to give you my blessing," Snape continued. "Mister Po--Harry. Since you are attached to Draco, I will treat you as I treat him. I do this, I must warn you, not for your benefit, but for his. If your relationship should end in anything less than an amicable manner, I will not treat you kindly out of sentiment."

Harry nodded. He could imagine Snape being even more cruel to him than before.

+----+

The next day was obnoxiously pleasant, given that Harry was sure he was going to have a small blowout of an argument with Sirius. He and Draco spent the start of the day in Hogsmeade, and at two, they went out to the road to meet Sirius. Harry had never been out in that direction before, and his attention was divided between looking around at the sparsely inhabited, rural countryside and laughing with Draco over the socks they had gotten as gifts for Dobby. One pair screamed loudly when it got too smelly, and another pair would change from green and silver to gold and red, depending on if the wearer was feeling Gryffindorish or more like a Slytherin at any given moment (mostly Ravenclaws were looking at those).

Sirius met them at the stile he had mentioned in his letter, in the form of the great black dog. Harry watched as Sirius hurried up, several old newspapers in his mouth. He wagged his tail, and tossed his head to indicate they should follow him; a very un-doglike gesture. Harry looked around and was sure that he could see Professor Dumbledore ambling oh-so-casually down the road. Draco followed along, and Harry took his hand.

Sirius led them through a field and towards the foothills nearby. He led them to a cave, and the instant he was inside, he transformed. 

Sirius was wearing the same ragged grey robes he had been wearing when he escaped from Azkaban. His hair was longer, and tangled. He looked Harry and Draco up and down and shook his head. "I hope you can explain this," he said as harry held out the bag of food he had brought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sven, the Swedish lover, is an in-joke with my family. He makes an appearance here because I think he is funny.
> 
> So, Snape has a line here that I feel I should pay some attention to. While he is expressing contempt, his favorite emotion, in regards to Lucius Malfoy, Snape mentions that there are multiple ways for the Malfoy line to continue, despite Draco not being interested in women. 
> 
> I'm sure some portion of you, my dear readers... hm... never using that phrase again... noticed that Snape says something that implies that, if I so chose, I could take this in the direction of an Mpreg fic.
> 
> Specifically, he says: "if it's heirs Lucius is worried about, there are many ways for their to be another Malfoy heir, even if Lucius insists upon continuing the bloodline."
> 
> I'd just like to say that this fiction will not go in that direction. If I get really drunk or something and write an epilogue, however, there may be one of the more bullshit uses for magic implied.
> 
> In this particular version of the world, it is not possible for someone who is anatomically male to get pregnant, because for reason upon reason, that would be fatal to both child and parent (to say nothing of the lack of certain organs), but it is possible for someone who is chromosomally male to become pregnant. This involves a number of assumptions on my part regarding exactly what polyjuice potion does. 
> 
> The assumption I make is that polyjuice potion creates a _fully functioning_ body for the person who drinks it, rather than simply mimicking appearances. There's more to it than that, of course, involving the assumption that polyjuice doesn't alter its user's genome, but the end result is that, for instance, Seamus and Dean (whose story arc is simple and straightforward), could choose to have a child who is genetically theirs. The drawback is that one of them is stuck waking up every hour on the hour to drink a polyjuice potion.
> 
> For a year. 
> 
> Needless to say, not many people would do this. It's also not precisely what's implied by the tag "mpreg", but it is in the general storytelling category, if not the other categories into which mpreg might fit.
> 
> I figure if I'm going to loosely imply the possibility of something without expecting it to come up in the story, ever, I should probably do you all the favor of explaining myself.
> 
> Yes, that is what the vat of polyjuice at the old woman's shop a few chapters back was for. Partially.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so AO3's shitty shitty software ate the first draft of this chapter last night. You guys get a longer chapter because of that.

The cave floor was strewn with old newspapers. Sirius picked one up and waved it at Harry. "You and _Draco Malfoy_? For Merlin's sake, Harry, have you lost your mind!?"

Harry looked at the paper in Sirius' hand. It was the one where he and Draco had given an interview to Rita Skeeter.

"Sirius, he's not--"

"He's a bully! I saw that for myself last year! He's a liar, and, Harry, I really can't say this enough, he's a _Malfoy_!"

"And you're a Black," Draco replied. 

Sirius seemed to lose traction all at once. "Well, that's... it's not the same!"

"Cousin Sirius, disowned by the family for thinking that maybe muggle-borns are all right? Might have had a fling with a muggle-born girl? I've been all but disinherited. Might as well be. You and me have that in common now."

Sirius stared at Draco, then at Harry, then back at Draco. He shook his head and glared at Harry. "You believed that?"

"Sirius, he didn't approach me to be my friend. I came to him." Harry snatched the newspaper out of his hand. "Did you actually read the interview?"

"Of course not, it was written by Rita Skeeter!"

"Draco made sure she didn't pull any of her tricks. Go ahead and read, we'll wait."

"Who says we'll wait?" Draco said irritably. "Obviously I'm not wanted here."

Harry twined his fingers together with Draco's. "Don't, love." he muttered.

Sirius glowered at them. He was nearly as good at glowering as when he had first escaped Azkaban. "I'm not reading a newspaper article to find out what my godson has been doing."

Harry pushed the paper back at Sirius. "I expected that at least you would support me, but I guess not. I'm stuck with just Dean and Seamus and a bunch of Draco's friends!"

Sirius flinched back. "So he's got you hanging about with Slytherins."

"Honestly, do you realize how petty that sounds," Draco said abruptly. Sirius stared at him, and Draco went on, "You're a grown man complaining that your godson is spending time with people from the wrong school house."

Sirius fell stonily silent. 

"Sirius, this is the way it's going to be," Harry said. "Please, give Draco a chance. I did, and... well, obviously it worked out."

Sirius looked like he would much rather hex Draco into next week, but he quietly stuck out a hand. "I don't trust you, but for Harry's sake... Mind you, if you hurt him, I'll run you down. After all, what's the worst they can do, throw me in Azkaban?"

For the next hour or so, Harry, Draco, and Sirius discussed the Triwizard Tournament and what to do about the final task. Sirius was fairly impressed, despite himself, with the thoroughness of Draco's thinking. Harry couldn't help being proud of his lover. He would have been happier about it, but Draco and Sirius agreed that whatever the reason behind his being entered in the tournament, the final task was the last chance for whoever had done it to make their move. Somehow, that wasn't exactly conducive to a cheerful mood.

Sirius and Draco both concluded that something strange was going on, and that it looked an awful lot like the rise of Voldemort had the last time he came to power. Draco pointed out a few of the oddities he had noticed at the Quidditch World Cup, several of which Harry corroborated. Sirius pointed out Barty Crouch's odd behavior and the disappearance of a minor Ministry of Magic employee. They went back and forth, with Harry putting in the odd note until three rolled around.

+----+

Draco cringed a bit as he opened the door into the kitchens. The house-elves were enthusiastic in their greeting until Harry said that he was looking for Dobby. They clearly didn't think much of Dobby.

Harry was surprised to see Dobby hovering nervously near another, female house-elf (truth be told, Harry was only sure of the gender because the elf was wearing an over-the-top, extremely girly pink dress), who was sitting on a chair, looking utterly inconsolable.

"Dobby," Harry said, "there's someone I'd like you to meet."

Dobby turned around with a bright smile. "Mister Harry Potter, sir! Dobby is surprised to--"

His face fell. Dobby began to shake and tremble, and his eyes grew wide. The house-elf dropped to his knees, and, to Harry's surprise, he began to beat his tiny fists against the floor, shouting "Dobby won't! Dobby won't!" over and over.

Harry hurried to Dobby's side. The female house-elf turned, and, with a start, Harry recognized Winky, Barty Crouch's house-elf.

"Dobby, stop!" Harry cried. "Draco is all right! He's my boyfriend, Dobby!"

"Won't, won't, won't!" Dobby shrieked, ignoring him.

Harry caught up Dobby's wrists, and Dobby stared at him. He was tearful, and he sniffled unhappily at Harry. "It's all right," Harry said. "Draco is my boyfriend, he's here to visit you."

Dobby was still trembling pretty forcefully. "Dobby had heard that Harry Potter was in love with his old master, but Dobby refused to believe it. Why, sir?"

"Because Draco's a better person than I thought he was," Harry said.

Draco stepped up, holding out the socks they had bought for Dobby. "I brought you some socks," he said. "Harry says you like them. I'm sorry, Dobby, for the way we treated... for the way _I_ treated you. Geppy misses you terribly, you know."

Dobby looked down at the socks. He looked back up at Draco, and the tears in his eyes spilled over. "Never has Dobby's master apologized to him. But Dobby will not take gifts from Draco Malfoy."

Draco looked hurt. "I really am sorry, Dobby. Harry's told me all about you, and if I'd known how much you were suffering, and how much happier you would be if you were free, I would have freed you. Please, Dobby, accept these. They'll only make up for a tiny part of all the socks I should have given you, but I'd feel better if you took them."

Dobby reached out and tentatively took the socks. "These ones will change color based on your mood," Draco explained, pointing, "and these scream if they get smelly, and these fold themselves up when you put them in a drawer, and these ones are just nice socks, they don't do anything special."

Dobby stared at Draco. "Draco is being kind to Dobby."

"And he really should have started being kind years ago," Harry said. He rested a hand on Draco's shoulder to take the sting out of his words.

+----+

It was May by the time they got around to telling the champions what the third task was going to be. When Harry told Draco that it was going to be a hedge maze, Draco thought for about thirty seconds, and then said, "There's a spell I need to teach you. You remember second year? Lockhart's awful dueling club?"

Harry nodded. "I remember Lockhart flat on his arse on the floor. Sort of a satisfying sight."

"I was thinking about that snake I conjured at you. The one you talked to. You need to learn that spell."

Harry tried to puzzle it out. After a minute, he sighed. "All right, why?"

"Because you can summon a snake, and then you can talk to it. And then you can summon another snake and talk to it. And you can keep summoning snakes and talking to them."

"How is that going to help me in a hedge ma--" Harry stopped short, and his mouth clamped shut as he figure it out. "Oh. Oh, Draco, that's not fair."

Draco kissed him. "I don't play fair. I win, instead."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. Draco is out in full force this update. He's silver-tongueing like a boss, and Slytherining really hard, and he just ensured that Harry will have, if not a superfast victory at the final task, then at least a much easier time.
> 
> Anyways, I'm gonna warn you all that as I am a NaNoer, this fiction will have one more chapter before a hiatus lasting however long it takes me to get to 50,000 words. The good news for fans of slashy Harry Potter goodness and my tendency to drag characters through the mud is that I'll be posting my NaNoWriMo story here as well as recording it at NaNo. The updates will probably be longer, too, on account of I tend to write like there's no tomorrow during NaNo. 
> 
> If you want to see the previous three installments, and to either laugh at my ineptitude or get your fix of bizarre dialogue, you can just look at my posted works. They're the ones in the Cruelty of Fate series (I'm not subtle about being mean to my characters). If you do decide to check them out, please be aware, each chapter of those that are already posted is well over ten thousand words long. I already had them finished when I decided to post them up, so I put them in at a readable length, but that's about it.


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter until my NaNo is done. Be warned.  
> If you feel the irresistable urge to read that, it will be the next thing I post.

Blaise Zabini dragged himself to his feet, rubbing at his tailbone. 

"And here I thought I was the only one Harry gave a sore bum to," Draco drawled from his perch on Flitwick's desk. "I think that's the stunning spell worked out. Harry, have you got Serpensortia sorted?"

Harry cast the spell, gave his orders to the resulting snake, and watched as it slithered up Draco's leg and coiled around his body, up to his shoulder, where it flicked its tongue on Draco's cheek.

Draco smiled at the snake. "Yours is a lot more brightly colored than mine."

That was true. When Draco conjured a snake, he tended to conjure a plain black snake. Harry, on the other hand, conjured a red, black, and yellow banded snake that he rather suspected was extremely venomous. He cast the counterspell to get rid of it.

"Was that a coral snake?" Blaise said.

"Probably," Draco replied. "Are they poisonous?"

"Very," Blaise said.

"Cool." Draco pulled his wand out and started twiddling it in his fingers as he thought about what to do next. "We ought to start in on some of that magic for finding your way when you're lost," he said finally, but with a glance at the window, he said, "We'll be getting the bell in a minute, though, so it's time to stop stunning Blaise and go down to lunch." Even as Draco stopped speaking, the bell rang, and Harry hooked his arm with Draco's as they followed Blaise down to the Great Hall.

"You really knocked me on my arse last time," Blaise called over his shoulder.

"If you want him to kiss it and make it better, you'll have to invite me," Draco said cheerfully.

"No thanks," Blaise said. "I'd hate to get between you two getting all gooey on each other."

Draco kissed Harry's cheek as wetly and sappily as possible.

+----+

Trelawney's room was a sweltering hothouse. Harry sat down next to Dean, who had started sweating the instant they came into the classroom. "Seamus knew better than to take this class," Dean muttered, cracking open a window while Trelawney droned on about stars and planets and the effects of Mars. She waved her wand, and the lamps around the room went out. The fire in the fireplace provided the only light, aside from various windows cracked by various relieved-looking students. The professor pulled a model of the solar system from under her chair. It was beautiful, with little moons orbiting the little planets under a glass dome, all hanging in thin air around a fiery sun. The heavy perfume of the air made him sleepy, and as the breeze from Dean's window wafted cooly across his face, the buzzing of a bug outside the window lulled him, his eyelids drooping...

+----+

"Dumbledore, I'm afraid I don't see the connection, don't see it at all! Ludo says Bertha's perfectly capable of getting herself lost. I agree we would have expected to have found her by now, but all the same, we've no evidence of foul play, Dumbledore, none at all. As for her disappearance being linked with Barty Crouch's illness!"

"And has anyone seen Barty Crouch, Minister?" Professor Moody's voice growled.

"Oh come now, you can't seriously believe Crouch has vanished just because Bertha Jorkins has been gone a bit too long!"

Harry stood with his hand nearly on the latch. He had fallen asleep, that much he knew, and then he had dreamed of a conversation between Voldemort and Peter Pettigrew. He could clearly hear Professor Dumbledore talking to Cornelius Fudge and Professor Moody. They seemed to be arguing over the same questions Sirius had brought up when Harry spoke to him last. 

"Can we wrap up this discussion?" Moody grated.

"Yes, yes," said Fudge, "I thank you, Dumbledore, for your concern, but--"

"No, it's not that," Moody said. "It's just that Potter wants a word with you, Dumbledore. He's just outside the door."

Harry drew his hand back from where it had stopped at the door. The door of the office opened. 

"Hello, Potter," Moody said. "Come in, then."

Harry stepped inside. The portraits on the back wall were all asleep in their frames.

"Harry!" Fudge cried. "I hope the media hasn't been giving you too much trouble. Bagged yourself a bit of a catch, haven't you?"

"Absolutely," Harry said, then immediately turned to Professor Dumbledore. "I wanted to talk to you, Professor."

"Certainly, Harry," Professor Dumbledore said. "Just allow me to take Minister Fudge out of the grounds. It won't take long."

They trooped out past him in stony silence, and the door clunked closed. Harry sighed. He looked over at the phoenix sitting on a golden perch beside the door.

"Hello, Fawkes," he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Fawkes seems like a good enough place to leave this off. I'll see you all on the other side of November!


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back. I'll probably be trading off at intervals between this and my Nano, which has hit fifty thousand words but isn't finished yet.

Fawkes made no reply, of course, except to regard Harry cooly and, apparently approving of him, give him a little blink. Harry sat in a chair, doing his best not to stare at the old headmasters and headmistresses in their frames. Instead, he looked at the floor and rubbed at his scar, pondering what he had overheard.

The headmaster seemed as concerned about Bertha Jorkins and Barty Crouch as Sirius was, and that, it seemed to Harry, was cause for concern. He glanced around Professor Dumbledore's office. The Sorting Hat sat on a shelf ragged and patched, and in a glass case next to it, the Sword of Gryffindor gleamed brightly. Harry smiled a bit, remembering how he had pulled the sword from the hat in his second year, and then remembering Draco's reaction when he told him about what had happened in the Chamber of Secrets. It had been quite the reaction.

Harry blinked as he saw a glint of silvery light on the sword's case. He stood up to investigate, following the light to a cabinet that hung slightly ajar. Harry peered through the gap for the source of the light and frowned. He wanted to reach out and see what it was, but Draco's lessons about proper discretion settled in the back of his mind. He was about to sit back down when the door opened up. 

"Ah, Harry," Professor Dumbledore said. "I see you have discovered my pensieve."

"I'm sorry, Professor," Harry said. "I saw a light, and I was trying to figure out where it came from. I didn't mean to pry."

"Certainly not. And you avoided prying quite nicely. Instead, you chose to peek." He smiled, taking some of the sting out of his words. "No doubt, you believed that I would abandon you for longer than I did. On the whole, I decided that I prefer your company to that of Cornelius Fudge, who, sadly, is not the most sparkling conversationalist I have ever met. An unfortunate quality in a Minister for Magic."

"Um, Professor Dumbledore, if you don't mind my asking, what exactly is a pensieve?" Harry asked.

"Oh, of course, Harry. I sometimes find, and I am sure you will agree, that my mind is simply too full of thoughts and memories."

"Er," Harry said, not quite certain that he could agree, and certainly unfamiliar with the feeling.

"At these times," Dumbledore said, reaching into the cabinet and pulling out a stone basin, which he took over to the desk, holding just slightly too high for Harry to see within, "I use the pensieve. One simply siphons the excess thoughts from one's mind," he set down the basin on the desk, "pours them into the basin, and examines them at one's leisure. It becomes easier to spot patterns and links, you see, when they are in this form."

As Professor Dumbledore moved aside, Harry could finally see the form he was referring to. A silvery something filled the basin, like liquid light, or maybe solid wind, swirling and rippling and moving without pause. He pushed back an urge to reach out and touch it. Four years of magical education had taught him better than that.

"You mean that stuff's your thoughts?" Harry said, still staring at the strange silvery stuff. Somehow the knowledge of what it was made it seem even more bizarre.

"Certainly," Professor Dumbledore said, drawing his wand. He pressed the tip of it in among his silvery hair and drew out a strand of what Harry at first took for more of his hair. But it quickly became apparent that it wasn't hair at all: rather, Professor Dumbledore kept pulling the silver strand and it broke away from his head. It was definitely the same as what was in the basin, and Harry watched as Professor Dumbledore added it to what was in the pensieve already. The headmaster lifted the pensieve and swirled it, something like a prospector panning for gold. Harry watched as faces swirled in the bowl, his own, and Snape's--Professor Snape's, Harry reminded himself--melting into one another.

Professor Snape's voice began to issue from the pensieve and his face in the . "It's coming back... Karkaroff's too... stronger and clearer than ever..."

"A connection I could have made without assistance," Dumbledore sighed, "but never mind." He watched Harry over his half-moon spectacles, and Harry tore his eyes away from Professor Snape's face swirling in the bowl. "I was using the pensieve when Mr. Fudge arrived for our meeting, and I am afraid that I put it away rather hastily. Undoubtedly I did not fasten the cabinet door properly. Naturally, it would attract your attention."

Professor Dumbledore smiled blandly at Harry. 

Something about this didn't seem right. Harry thought it over for a minute or two, and then he smiled at the Professor. "I wouldn't imagine you mind too much. You wanted me to see it, didn't you, professor?"

Dumbledore's smile widened. "I see Mister Malfoy has rubbed off on you."

Harry blushed at the word choice, then looked back up at the professor. "What did you want me to see?"

"I believe that I have just shown in to you," Professor Dumbledore said. He prodded the pensieve again, and a younger version of Igor Karkaroff rose from the misty contents. He looked very much younger, and very much more afraid than Harry had ever seen him, and he sat in a hard, uncomfortable-looking chair with chains on the arms. 

Karkaroff spoke. "I wish to be of use to the Ministry. I wish to help. I--I know that the Ministry is trying to--to round up the last of the Dark lord's supporters. I am eager to assist in any way I can... He preferred that we--I mean to say, his supporters--and I regret now, very deeply, that I ever counted myself among them--" Abruptly, Karkaroff fell back into the basin. in his place rose Ludo Bagman, in the same chair. 

Harry's eyes went wide. Was Bagman a Death Eater? He was certainly younger, and looked stronger than he did now, as though perhaps he could be dangerous. He had not yet gone to seed. He, too, spoke, his voice panicked. "I thought I was collecting information for our side! And Rookwood kept talking about getting me a job in the Ministry later on..." Bagman fell, too, more slowly and gracefully than Karkaroff had.

Lastly, a young man arose, in the same chair. He was unfamiliar to Harry, but before he spoke, Professor Dumbledore spoke. "This testimony was from a very dark trial. Bartemius Crouch presided over this boy's trial, and he pleaded with his prosecutor."

The boy spoke. "Father... Father, please..." the younger Crouch's voice was miserable and desperate, and Harry's heart seemed to shrivel up inside his chest. "Mother!" the younger Crouch tried next, "Mother, stop him, Mother, I didn't do it, it wasn't me!" 

As the terrified boy vanished into the basin again, Professor Dumbledore sighed. "The crime of which he was accused..."

A younger--and very, very stern-looking--Barty Crouch rose from the bowl and immediately spoke, cold and angry. "You stand accused of capturing an Auror--Frank Longbottom--and subjecting him to the Cruciatus Curse, believing him to have knowledge of the present whereabouts of your exiled master, He-Who-Must-not-Be-Named... You are further accused of using the Cruciatus Curse on Frank Longbottom's wife, when he would not give you information. You planned to restore He-Who-Must-not-Be-Named to power, and to return to the lives of violence you presumably led while he was strong."

Crouch fell into the basin, and professor Dumbledore sighed. "All of these people have some relevance to our current situation, with the sole exception of Bartemius Crouch Junior, who died in Azkaban some time ago."

Harry frowned. "And they were all tied to Voldemort?"

Dumbledore nodded, his face uncharacteristically grim, but then he moved the pensieve aside. "But this is not why you are here, Harry. It is merely something I wished for you to know and saw the opportunity for you to learn. You wished to speak to me, not the other way around."

"Yes," Harry said. "Professor--I was in Divinations, and I, er, I fell asleep."

"While I commend your coming to report this lapse to me, I assure you it is perfectly understandable." Dumbledore said.

Harry blinked at Dumbledore's easy dismissal of his falling asleep. "Well... I had a dream. A dream about Voldemort. He was torturing Wormtail. That is, er, Peter Pettigrew." Harry took a moment to gather his thoughts. "Voldemort got a letter from an owl. He said something like... Pettigrew's error had been repaired. He said that someone was dead, and that Pettigrew wouldn't be fed to the snake--there was a snake behind his chair. He said--he said he'd be feeding me to it, instead. then he used the Cruciatus Curse on him, and my scar started hurting. It hurt so badly it woke me up. And... Professor he had a body. He definitely had a body, or at least, arms to hold a wand."

Dumbledore nodded, steepling his fingers on top of his desk. "I see. And, excepting the time it woke you over the summer, has your scar hurt at any other time this year?"

Harry shook his head. He supposed he should have assumed Sirius would tell Dumbledore about the other dream. 

Dumbledore stood up and began to pace, adding thoughts to the pensieve from time to time, and the thoughts in the pensieve began to swirl and show images that moved too fast to be seen. Finally, Harry said, "Do you know why my scar is hurting, Professor?"

Dumbledore paused, his eyes fixed intently on Harry. "I believe, Harry, and keep in mind that this is only a theory, that your scar pains you at two times: when you are near Lord Voldemort, and when he is feeling a particularly strong surge of hatred."

"Why?" Harry asked.

"Because you are connected to him through the scar, by the curse that failed to kill you. In short, Harry, that is no ordinary scar."

"So you think... that dream... did it really happen?"

Dumbledore nodded. "I believe so, Harry. Did you see Voldemort?"

"No," Harry said. "I only saw the back of his chair." He took a deep breath. "Professor, is Voldemort getting stronger?"

"Yes, Harry, I believe he is," Professor Dumbledore said. "Many signs point to it. The disappearance of Bertha Jorkins, the mysterious illness of Barty Crouch, and there is a third event of note. The disappearance of a Muggle, by the name of Frank Bryce, from the village where Voldemort's father grew up. He has not been seen since August, which, I believe, is when you had the dream about which you spoke to Sirius."

A lump rose up in Harry's throat. "You're right. Professor... "

"I would advise you to concentrate on the tasks ahead of you, Harry."

"What about the Longbottoms?" Harry asked. "Were those Neville's parents Crouch was talking about?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes. Frank and Alice Longbottom are still alive, but they were, unfortunately, driven insane by the tortures they were put through. I beg you Harry, do not mention this to anyone. It is Mister Longbottom's right to let people know when he is ready."

"Of course, Professor," Harry said. 

Professor Dumbledore sighed. "You have given me much to think about, Harry. But there is still time, I believe for you to at least try to enjoy your evening."

Harry nodded. "Thank you for listening, Professor."

+----+

Draco was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. Harry turned a bit red on seeing his boyfriend. "You already know what happened?"

Draco nodded and reached out to Harry. Harry was a bit surprised by how much he wanted the comfort Draco offered. "What's wrong, Harry?" Draco asked.

"I saw Voldemort," Harry said. "I fell asleep, and I had a dream and saw Voldemort. Professor Dumbledore thinks it was probably real, that what I saw probably really happened."

Draco sucked in a sharp breath, and without a word, he pressed his lips gently to the top of Harry's head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh. This chapter was, like, all reference to the book, and I hardly got to write any Draco, immediately after having written a relatively sullen, unpleasant Draco in my NaNo. 
> 
> I'm gonna have to go over this thing again to get a better feel for the characters. It's been almost a full month.


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we plunge headlong into the final task. I'm skipping a lot of pointlessness, and frankly, because of Draco, only about a thousand words of actual task come through. Less than that. Parseltongue is a gamebreaker if you know how to use it.

"What do you suppose they're doing?" Harry said.

Draco looked up. He was leaning on Harry's chest, both of them relaxed under a tree in the grounds. They were watching the Whomping Willow, as it occasionally took a noncommital swipe at a passing bird. Between them and the willow, Vincent Crabbe was leaning on another tree with his hands cupped over his mouth. Theodore Nott was standing with him, looking smug. As they watched, Crabbe held his hands out towards Nott, and then Nott cupped his hands to his mouth.

"Looks like he's using a walkie-talkie," Harry said.

"A what?" Draco said.

"A walkie-talkie," Harry repeated. "It's a muggle device that lets people talk to each other over distances."

"Electronic?" Draco asked.

"I know it wouldn't work on the grounds," Harry said. "That's just what it looks like they're doing."

Draco cuddled up a bit closer, then slowly sat up straight. "What on earth are they doing that for?"

"I don't know," Harry admitted. He closed his eyes and leaned back, letting the warm sun on his face lull him into a sort of quiet half-slumber. Draco relaxed into him after a while, and eventually, Harry fell completely asleep.

+----+

Harry found himself relieved at breakfast on the morning of the third task. for one thing, he was fairly sure that if he got any more prepared for the task ahead of him, he would just be holding the Triwizard Trophy. For another, win or lose, the third task would be over by the end of the day. Whatever awful thing was preparing to happen would have happened, and he would be free to go back to living his life. Perhaps, he thought, though, of course, he knew better, nothing would happen. Draco sat with Harry, as well as Blaise and Daphne, who took the side of Draco opposite from Harry. Dean and Seamus sat on Harry's other side. 

Weasley was busily glaring daggers at Harry and Draco when the post owls came in. One of them dropped a good-luck card from Sirius; it was a piece of parchment folded over with a muddy paw-print on the front, but the sentiment was still very nice. Even as Harry passed the card to Draco, who rolled his eyes and mouthed "your godfather is weird," a screech owl dropped the Daily Prophet in front of Hermione, somehow managing to land with the thing and still produce a resounding smack. Harry looked up just as another owl landed a Prophet right in front of Draco.

Draco looked at the paper and smirked. Harry rested his chin in his open palm, watching his boyfriend calmly leaf through the paper. The headline on the front page read "Harry Potter: Disturbed and Dangerous". Beneath the big banner headline was his own face, looking a bit manic. Draco's smirk continued to widen. 

Blaise frowned as he caught sight of the headline. "Care to tell me what's so satisfying, Draco? It looks as though Skeeter's calling your boyfriend a nutter."

"That's right," Draco said. "Harry, you said there was a bug buzzing around outside the window when you fell asleep in Divinations, right?"

Harry nodded. "It put me right to sleep."

Draco nodded. "I thought you mentioned something like that. Well, we've got her." He handed over the Daily Prophet. "Don't worry too much about what she's said, as she'll be practically begging to sing your praises pretty soon. Maybe we'll make her do a piece about how Hagrid is actually quite nice."

Harry peered at the newspaper in his hands. Somehow, he didn't really want to read the article. He folded it up and put it aside. Dean picked it up and held it in front of himself and Seamus. After a minute, Dean said "but you didn't storm out. And she left out the bit where you woke up screaming on the floor."

"To say nothing of the fact that she couldn't have been there to witness anything, but clearly claims she did," Draco said.

Harry sat up a little straighter. "She says she saw it personally?"

Draco nodded. Harry almost snatched the Prophet out of Dean's hands, but thought better of it, and instead craned his neck around--somewhat uncomfortably--to read the first part of the article until he got to the words that confirmed what skeeter had said.

"But she wasn't there," Harry protested.

"I think you'll find you're mistaken, love," Draco replied.

Since the Triwizard Tournament exempted him from participating in final exams, Harry had been reading in classes, looking up hexes and charms and all manner of other ways to get ahead in the third task. He doubted he would find anything new now, at the eleventh hour, but he still intended to read in his classes. Professor Mcgonagall put a stop to that notion, though. She dragged Harry off to the same chamber where he had been dragged when his name came out of the Goblet of Fire. Harry spent the whole day in pleasant company with, of all people, Viktor Krum and his parents. Professor Dumbledore must have been persuaded to relax the wards around the school, too, because Sirius was there, although only Harry knew that he was anything other than a big, goofy dog gamboling around the grounds. 

They retired to the castle for lunch, and Draco plopped down with them, looking quite pleased with himself. 

"What's going on," Harry asked.

"I got a new pet," Draco said cheerily. "Found Theodore Nott playing with a bug out on the grounds. Once he left it, it was pretty simple to go and catch it. I expect bugs can't see too well."

"A bug?" Harry said incredulously.

"Oh, absolutely," Draco said. "I love bugs. Keep them in a jar with an unbreakable charm on it and they're hours of fun."

"You're up to something," Harry said.

"Well, that's why I gave the jar to Dean for safekeeping," Draco said. "It ought to be in your dormitory."

Harry cocked his head curiously to the side. "You gave me a bug."

"Don't let her out of the jar," Draco said.

+----+

"Feeling all right, Harry?" Ludo Bagman asked as they went down to the hedge maze that had been set up in the quidditch pitch. "Confident?"

"I'm okay," Harry said. It had the benefit of being true: with a solid plan in place, he was about as confident as he could be, and there was something to be said for the heady feeling of the entire (or nearly entire--the Weasleys had refrained from participating in the display) Gryffindor table applauding him as he walked out.

There was some explaining of rules, little things like having to send up red sparks if he was in trouble and the like, and then they were all in position to enter the maze. Harry was undoubtedly in first place, as Mister Bagman explained to the crowd. That meant that Harry went in first. 

The hedges towered over Harry, and he thought that they just had to be enchanted, because all sound from the crowd ceased the instant he was within them. Harry had the oddly familiar feeling of being underwater again, and he stepped forward in more or less a random direction, ducked into an alcove, and drew out his wand.

He cast the snake-summoning spell Draco had taught him ten times, and then he dropped to one knee as the snakes watched him for instructions.

Harry smiled. _"I need to find a way to the center of this maze. Follow paths that I could take. You are looking for a place with a cup that has very ornate handles. When you find a path to that place, come back to me. If you meet another snake, tell each other where you have been and take paths that neither of you has taken. Do not travel in company with another snake unless there are no paths that neither of you has taken. If there are no clear paths to the cup, find the clearest path you can and then return to me to lead me up that path. If you find the cup and meet a snake who has found a clearer path, you are to gather outside of the maze, next to the tall human with the long beard. Harm no humans, now or ever."_

The snakes, their orders received, slithered away. Harry did it again, and again, and again. Once or twice he heard someone yell about a snake and then there was the sound of a spell being used. He was about to summon a fifth wave of ten when a single snake slithered into the alcove he was using. 

_"Follow me, master,"_ it hissed. 

Harry followed along, glad that the snakes he summoned were so brightly colored, even if they were probably wildly venomous. It was easy to follow the little band of red and black and yellow by wandlight. The snake led him along through dark hedges. Once, Harry saw Viktor Krum out of the corner of his eye, but the other boy only moved on, taking a different path through the maze. Harry spotted Fleur Delacour, as well, lying slumped over unconscious. He tried to wake her, but she seemed too stunned to be awakened, and his snake was moving on. Harry sent up red sparks, cast a protective charm over her, and hurried on. His conscience told him to stay and wait until someone came to rescue Fleur, but Draco had told him, and Harry agreed, that if someone was going to try something, they would try it while he was in the maze, so he intended to get out as fast as possible so that everyone would be out of danger.

The path the snake took Harry on seemed rather roundabout, but it got him to a place where a sphinx lay surrounded by three very dead snakes. The sphinx was nearly dead itself. It had the body of a lion, but the head of a woman, and turned huge eyes on Harry.

"They have venom," the sphinx said. "Save me, and I shall let you pass."

Harry knelt by the sphinx's side and started muttering charms to cure the venom of the snakes. He could see the Triwizard cup through the gap in the hedges beyond the sphinx. As Harry ran through the last of the charms Draco had taught him to counteract snake venom, The sphinx stood. Harry passed some instructions to his snake, which looked inordinately proud of itself, and as it hurried off to send all the rest of the snakes it could find swarming to Professor Dumbledore's no-doubt-very-confused side, Harry stepped up to the Triwizard Cup.

He reached out reverently and took his prize.

Instantly, Harry felt a sharp tug somewhere behind his navel. His feet came up off the ground, and he could not let go of the Triwizard Cup: it was pulling him upward in a swirl of howling wind and blinding colored light.

Harry felt his feet slam into the ground. As unexpected as the sudden transport had been, the impact drove him to his knees, and the cup fell from his hand, bouncing across the ground. He looked around, unsure where he was, and it became very clear that something was very wrong, that his own eagerness to get out of the maze had worked against him, and he--and everyone at Hogwarts--had been played for a fool. 

He was standing, not in some sort of a winner's circle, but in a graveyard. A small, vaguely forlorn church hunkered beyond a large yew tree to the right, and the familiar encircling mountains were gone. He didn't know where he was, but it might be as far as hundreds of miles away. Harry moved towards one of the gravestones and peered at the name on it.

He read it three times before he made the connection. "Adrian Riddle." Harry breathed the name quietly. "Riddle. This is Voldemort's family graveyard."

Footsteps began to approach from behind Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. Rita's gonna be stuck in her little jar for a while. She's gonna be really, really, really hungry when she gets out, but I assume Draco left some food in there with her. Interestingly, the penny dropped at the same time for both Draco and Hermione, just for different reasons. Draco is more used to the magical world and the ridiculous ways Slytherinish people think, Hermione makes bizarre mental connections.


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love a good climax.
> 
> Heeeee.... storytelling innuendo...

Harry turned, adjusting his glasses and squinting into the darkness. A figure had drawn quite close to him before he saw him, a short, hunched figure wearing a hooded cloak and carrying something Harry couldn't quite identify. It might almost have been a baby, except that to carry an infant through a graveyard in the dead of night would have been impressively crazy, and it might simple have been a bundle of cloth except that it was _moving_ from time to time. 

The figure stopped beside a marble monument and stared at Harry, and without warning, his scar flared into agonizing pain. He had never before felt quite this degree of pain, and his wand slipped from his grasp. Harry's knees hit the ground, his hands came up to his face, and before he could think, he was curled on the ground in a little ball of misery; his head felt like it was about to explode.

The cloaked man grabbed Harry roughly by the back of his cloak and dragged him to the headstone that he had set the bundle down on. The name on it flickered in the uncertain light from his wand.

"Tom Riddle," it read.

The cloaked man wrapped tight cords around Harry, binding him securely to the grave of Tom Riddle, and now, Harry knew. 

The dream of Voldemort in the chair in a house, torturing Wormtail... 

"Peter, you don't have to do this," Harry said. "Kill him, or hand him over to Dumbledore, and you could be a--"

Peter Pettigrew slapped Harry, none too gently, and went back to tying him up. Blood welled up in Harry's mouth. He swallowed it and pressed on. "I'm serious, Peter. You can still stop--"

This time, it was a noise that stopped him. Something was sliding through the grass at his feet, and Harry's eyes went wide as a huge snake slithered past Pettigrew. 

Wormtail shuddered slightly, but he began to back away from Harry. The snake was circling the headstone, and therefore circling Harry. Wormtail went away, and Harry was left for a while with only the snake for company, the snake and the bundle. When Harry looked at the bundle, pain roared up in his forehead again. The conclusion was inescapable: whatever it was that remained of Voldemort had to be in the bundle. 

Wormtail came back into view, huffing and puffing and pushing what looked like a huge stone cauldron. He took it to the foot of the grave, and water, or what might have been water, sloshed loudly in it. The cauldron was huge, large enough for a grown man to sit in. 

Voldemort--it could really only be him--stirred more persistently in his robes as Pettigrew fiddled at the bottom of the cauldron with his wand. Flames sprang up and the water--or whatever it was--inside the cauldron began to heat. The snake slithered away into the darkness.

 _"Wait,"_ Harry hissed in Parseltongue.

The snake stopped, and then, she--it was certainly a female voice--said _"I wait for no one but my master, and I will never wait on the word of my next meal."_

Harry winced. No help there. 

The surface of the water in the cauldron was already boiling, bubbling, and throwing out sparks. Harry thought that that rather proved it was a potion of some sort, and not water. Thick steam roiled off of it, blurring everything, and then, Voldemort spoke.

"Hurry!"

Harry watched as the sparks covered the whole surface of the cauldron, and Wormtail said, "It is ready, Master."

"Now," said the cold voice of Voldemort.

"Stop it, Peter," Harry began, but Pettigrew had apparently had enough. He aimed his wand and muttered a spell, and a wad of something soft and obstructing appeared in Harry's mouth. He tried to push it out with his tongue, but it was stuck in very well and he could do nothing to dislodge it.

Wormtail unwrapped Voldemort.

Harry turned away. It hurt to look at what was left of his enemy, but almost as bad was how ugly he was. He had the shape of a human child, hunched over in something like the fetal position, but his form was all that was even vaguely human. He was scaly and hairless, a dark, raw, reddish-black color. His arms and legs were thin and spidery, and his face was flat and snakelike, with gleaming red eyes. 

He put those thin arms around Wormtail's neck, and Wormtail lifted him up. As he did, his cloak fell back, and Harry saw a disgusted look etched across his face. He carried Voldemort to the cauldron, and then he dropped him in.

Harry heard Voldemort hit the bottom of the cauldron.

As his scar seared on his face, Harry wished fervently for Voldemort to drown, for whatever was being done to fail. 

Wormtail raised his wand, and spoke quietly to the darkness. "Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!"

The grave cracked open at Harry's feet, and although he had brief visions of a skeleton rising from the ground to drag him off to the cauldron, instead a fine dust rose into the air and fell into the cauldron. The potion in the cauldron hissed and turned an ominous, poisonous blue.

Wormtail let out a truly pathetic whimper and pulled out a long, thin silver dagger from his cloak. 

"Flesh--of the servant--w-willingly given--you will--revive--your master."

He stretched his right hand out in front of him, and some ridiculous part of Harry noted that it was the one missing the finger before the knife flashed through the air. The scream that Wormtail let out cut straight through Harry, and he watched in revulsion as Wormtail picked up the hand that he had just cut off of himself and dropped it in the cauldron. The potion turned bright, bright red, glowing brightly enough to be seen even when Harry closed his eyes, which he did to shut out the awful sight of Wormtail. But it wasn't enough.

Ragged breaths puffed against Harry's cheek and Wormtail spoke again.

"Blood of the enemy... forcibly taken... you will... resurrect your foe."

Harry watched as Wormtail pressed the dagger through his robes and into his flesh. The pain was nothing to the agony in his scar, but it still served to compound his misery. Wormtail collected the blood that ran down his sleeve with a glass vial, then dumped the blood into the cauldron.

The potion inside turned a blazing, blinding white, while Wormtail collapsed to the ground, sobbing and holding the stump of his arm. The cauldron simmered, flinging its sparks all over, so bright that nothing else could be seen, and yet nothing else happened.

Then, the sparks ceased, the glow faded into tolerability, and steam issued thickly from the cauldron. 

_Draco would say that he's done cooking about now,_ Harry thought, and he squeezed his eyes shut and started laughing around the gag. It was a desperate laugh, grim laughter. It felt obscene to be laughing, but Harry couldn't stop. He barely registered the sound of a voice speaking, high, cold, and thin. Lord Voldemort had risen again, and all Harry could do was to imagine the dumb joke his boyfriend would have made.

Harry kept laughing until a fresh surge of anguish rushed through his forehead. Wormtail screamed, and Harry finally came to his sense in time to see Voldemort drawing his hand away from the crook of Wormtail's left arm. 

"How many will be brave enough to return when they feel it?" Voldemort said. "And how many will be foolish enough to stay away?"

He began to pace up and down, and then his eyes alighted on Harry and he smiled a cold, cruel smile. 

"You stand, Harry Potter, upon the remains of my late father," he hissed softly. "A muggle and a fool... very like your dear mother." He smiled even more cruelly, and even chuckled mirthlessly as if at a stray thought. "I imagine he would be disappointed to see me as I am today. Of course, I understand your mother would probably be just as disappointed. If you were a Slythering, I might suppose that you had seen sense and were trying to worm--" at the word he glanced with amusement in Wormtail's direction, "your way into my good graces. it would be a foolish attempt, of course, and I would kill you whatever you might do, but it would at least show guile."

As he spoke, skeletally thin, deathly pale, and so, so cold, he paced, and the snake came to slither around his feet. Voldemort held a wand, and he raised it and levitated Harry's dropped wand to his hand. 

"No, Potter, I will not allow you join my family. And what a family it is!" he said as the swishing of cloaks rose up around him. All over, wizards were apparating in, hooded and masked exactly like at the Quidditch World Cup. they moved forward, slowly and cautiously, with disbelief deep in their every motion. Harry watched in imposed silence, and as one of the Death Eaters bent forward to kiss--or at least press his mask to--Voldemort's feet, Harry spotted one of the Death Eaters glancing at him. In a flash of wandlight, Harry saw shockingly familiar grey eyes, and a flash of platinum blonde hair. A snake-headed wand grip vanished into the Death Eater's cloak, but he turned away and took his place in the circle the Death Eaters were forming.

"Welcome, Death Eaters," Voldemort said quietly. "Thirteen years... thirteen years since last we met. Yet you answer my call as though it were yesterday... We are still united under the Dark Mark, then! _Or are we?_ " He sniffed as though he was actually smelling something. Harry pushed against the gag in his mouth again, trying to distract himself from whatever death Voldemort was eventually going to find for him, and to his surprise, it began to loosen. As Voldemort berated his followers for not seeking out a dead man, Harry slowly worked it loose until he heard Voldemort cast the Cruciatus curse on one of the Death Eaters. Harry looked up. One of the men was writhing, screaming on the ground. Harry wished fervently that the police would come, that someone at a house nearby would hear, but he knew better: Draco had shown him all manner of privacy charms, and there was no way Voldemort wouldn't have used them.

"Get up, Avery," Voldemort said.

Harry went back to concentrating on his gag. He watched as Voldemort conjured a new, silvery hand for Wormtail, and then he began to pace towards the circle of the Death Eaters. Even as Harry finally worked the gag out of his mouth, Voldemort stopped in front of the Death Eater Harry thought was Lucius Malfoy. Harry's gag fell unnoticed to his lap, and Voldemort smiled an icy smile at Malfoy.

"Lucius, my slippery friend. I am told that you have not renounced the old ways, though to the world you present a respectable face. You are still ready to take the lead in a spot of Muggle-torture, I believe? Yet you never tried to find me, Lucius... Your exploits at the Quidditch World Cup were fun, I daresay... but might not your energies have been better directed toward finding and aiding your master?" Voldemort seemed almost to be warming to some joke as he went on. "And this business with your son and Harry Potter... shameful. I understand that young Draco is hanging about with mudbloods." Voldemort handed Harry's wand to Lucius Malfoy. "I daresay your boy will be devastated when you bring him his lover's wand, but bring it to him you will. Prove the loyalty of the Malfoy men, Lucius. Kill Harry Potter."

Lucius Malfoy turned icy grey eyes on Harry and stalked over to him, stuffing Harry's wand unceremoniously into his cloak. Harry gave him a pleading look, and Lucius made no reply to the look. He stepped forwards. "Potter, you have dared to touch my son. For that, I should kill you as slowly as possible." He drew himself up just a shade taller, and then he flicked his wand.

Harry's bonds fell away, and Harry was jerked towards Lucius Malfoy. Malfoy twisted in place, holding onto Harry. Voldemort screamed some curse Harry couldn't have identified if he'd spent a month in the Restricted section in the library, and even as they apparated away, Lucius' back arched and he grunted. Something hot and wet struck Harry's face, and then someone squeezed him through a rubber tube. It was tight, and constricting, and just when he thought for sure that he would asphyxiate, he re-emerged and his feet thudded into the ground.

"Go through," Lucius hissed through gritted teeth.

Harry looked around. He was in front of the gates into Hogwarts. He dragged Lucius through, over the man's protests. Lucius' mask slowly came away from his face, and Harry started shouting, "HELP! HELP ME! SOMEONE, PLEASE, HELP!"

There were a few light cracking sounds in the distance, and figures appeared beyond the gates of Hogwarts. They followed Harry in, and Harry leaned on the man he was dragging. "Come on, Mister Malfoy, you have to try to walk."

Lucius took a few hesitant steps, and Harry started shouting again. 

"HELP! HELP ME! PLEASE, SOMEONE HELP ME!"

"HARRY!" 

Harry looked up to see Draco running across the grounds, Professor Dumbledore right behind him. A few other teachers and students were behind them, and far, far behind them was what looked like most of the crowd that had been watching. Harry turned, and saw the Death Eaters retreating.

As Draco reached him, Harry's knees gave out, and he dropped to the ground. Draco reached for Harry, and pulled him close, kissing him.

"Draco," Lucius wheezed.

Draco's eyes came up to meet his father's and his face grew paler than ever. "Father," he said, with evident fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always thought Harry was a bit slow on the uptake in the book...
> 
> And yeah, there's a few changes in this scene that are quite important. All sorts of crap is gonna be really, really, really different from now on.


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, one more before the weekend.

Lucius Malfoy reached out for his son. Harry levered himself upright. Whatever was going to happen, he wouldn't let Draco face it alone, even if he had to lean on him to stay sitting instead of supine on the grass. Draco took his father's hand and watched the older Malfoy with nervousness.

Harry could see now, the damage that had been done to Lucius. Voldemort's spell had struck his back, just between the shoulder blades, only slightly off-center, and there was a hole through him, ragged and bloody. The spell that struck him down had bored a long way into his back, and the tunnel it carved had ended in a bloody burst from just on his collarbone. His blood, Harry knew, was all over his face. Lucius stared up at him, and then at Draco, and finally, he spoke again.

"I am truly sorry, Draco..." Lucius drew in a labored breath. Professor Dumbledore arrived, and next to him were Professors Snape and Moody. "I should always... have let you have... your heart." He sucked in another breath. The damage around his wound was worsening by the second, and Dumbledore was working to stop it, casting in conjunction with Professor Snape, but the flesh around the wound was suppurating before Harry's eyes, starting to give off a smell of death and decay.

"Father," Draco said, "you don't have to say all this. You can tell me later."

Lucius shook his head. Tears surged into his eyes at the motion. "I do, Draco... I should... always have been... your father. Instead... I was Lord Malfoy... and I am sorry." He sucked in a breath and squeezed his eyes shut against what must have been pain to rival what Harry had felt in his scar earlier. A bubble formed under Lucius' skin, swelled to the size of a galleon, and burst, oozing out blood and pus in equal measures. "I was asked... to kill your lover... but I could not. I did not... spare him for him... but for you."

The confessional tones of Lucius' voice flowed out flatly between them. "Father," Draco said, pleading now. 

"I cannot bear... to see my son... unhappy... You do not know... how I... have grieved--" Another bubble of skin burst, and he squeezed Draco's hand. "To know... that I... was hurting you..." Tears rolled down from Lucius' eyes. "I return... every privilege... I have taken... from you." His eyes slipped closed. Harry leaned on Draco's shoulder, ready to offer comfort, and then Lucius eyes flew open, a wild determination chiseled into his face. "Fight him!" Lucius shouted, and his hand moved from Draco's to Harry's. "Protect my son!" The furious power behind his shout had his wound breaking and bleeding and pouring fluids Harry didn't care to think about down the older man's chest, soaking his robes and his cloak.

Harry squeezed his rescuer's hand. "I promise," he said.

"Do this... and every wrong you have done the House of Malfoy... will be erased." Lucius turned again to Draco. "Draco... I love you."

Finally, Draco broke. He sobbed and leaned forward, clutching at his father. Lucius gasped, and was still. Harry leaned on his hands, and as Professor Dumbledore pulled Draco gently off of his father's body, Harry hugged Draco to him. Draco just cried, miserably and loudly. It was frightening. Harry had never seen Draco lose control to quite this extent (or at least, never in any context that was appropriate to remember under the circumstances). He wasn't just in mourning: he was in anguish. Harry just clutched Draco close to him, ignoring the blood and pus that coated them both from Lucius' wound. 

Slowly, Harry became aware of what was around him. A crowd pressed in on all sides, and Harry reached out to catch Dumbledore's wrist. 

"Professor Dumbledore," Harry said. As the adrenalin of his flight from the Death Eaters and the need to witness Lucius' last moments wore off, he could feel exhaustion closing in on him.

Dumbledore turned. "Professor, Voldemort is back," Harry said. 

The whole crowd fell silent. Professor Dumbledore looked a little bit thunderstruck, for only a moment, and then, just as the crowd erupted around him, he started trying to calm them. Harry was trying to make himself heard, but, exhausted as he was, he might as well have been whispering into a hurricane. 

"Harry, stay here," Professor Dumbledore said as though there was some danger of Harry getting up and wandering off. Draco's arms clutched at Harry, and then a gruff voice spoke.

"It all right, son, I've got you. Come on... hospital wing..." 

"Dumbledore said stay," Draco said through thick, choking tears.

Professor Moody picked Harry up. "You need to lie down... come on now, Harry," he said.

"I have to stay," Harry protested feebly, but Moody just kept going, pumping Harry for information about what had happened. 

They were nearly up the steps to the castle when Professor Dumbledore roared "Stop!"

Harry turned in time to see the Headmaster of Hogwarts running after them, his wand extended, and then Moody's support was gone, the Defense professor pitching over backwards and Harry dropping to his knees again. He slowly forced himself to stand. Draco hurried in Professor Dumbledore's wake, with Professor Snape and, of all people, Cornelius Fudge. 

Dumbledore pointed his wand squarely at Moody's prone form and said calmly, "I think we have found the source of some of our troubles, Minister. Shall we wait to see who he really is?"

"Who he really is?" Fudge said.

"What Professor Dumbledore means to say," Professor Snape drawled, "is that we are looking not at Alastor Moody, but at a Polyjuiced imposter."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Having someone alert, focused on Harry, and already extremely worried speeds up Dumbledore's reaction time a lot.
> 
>  
> 
> Also, to those who were hoping Lucius would live, I'm sorry. To be fair, I was planning to kill him off from the start. His character arc always lacked a sacrifice moment, I think. He just sort of remains an arrogant prick throughout the books, and I never liked that, because by the end we're supposed to realize just how much he got shafted by the war, and all we get is that he's still a prick. So, here's a conclusion to his story that's hard-hitting and merciless, but definite. 
> 
> There's the added benefit of it leaving me with a damaged Draco to write, too, and that's important.


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oi. This chapter...

Professor McGonagall arrived just in time to hear Professor Snape's pronouncement. "Polyjuice?" she cried.

"I believe so, yes," Professor Dumbledore said. "Severus, please take Harry to the infirmary. Bring our imposter there as well, take his wand, and ensure that he is firmly secured to a bed. When you have done that, please fetch me the strongest Truth Potion you possess, then go down to the kitchens and bring the house-elf called Winky up to the infirmary as well. Minerva, kindly go down to Hagrid's house, where you will find a large black dog sitting in the pumpkin patch. Take the dog up to my office, tell him I will be with him shortly, then come back to the infirmary." Professor Dumbledore, orders given, hurried away into the castle. 

Draco stood at Harry's side. His eyes were full of tears, but halfway to the infirmary, he suddenly stood ramrod straight, still holding Harry up. Harry's own body was erked a bit more upright by the sudden motion. He turned abruptly to look at his boyfriend. "Draco?"

Draco's brow furrowed into a frown. "I have to go," he said. He leaned over and kissed Harry, quite thoroughly.

"Draco, don't go," Harry said.

Draco held Harry's head in his hands, even as Harry swayed slightly on his feet. He leaned in and whispered to Harry. "Harry, you want your godfather to be free, don't you?" he said.

Harry blinked. Draco's words were having a hard time getting through his growing exhaustion. "Of course I do," he said.

Draco took a deep breath. "You have to let me go," he said. "I know what Dumbledore is doing, and I can make it work better, but he's forgotten to do something. Lean on Severus. Trust him, Harry."

Harry stared at Draco. He had never asked Harry to trust anyone else before. Harry held onto Draco's arms. Professor Snape was standing still, watching them. Harry glanced at the Potions instructor, then back at Draco. He sighed. "I trust you, Draco."

Harry unlatched himself from Draco and staggered the few steps to Professor Snape. 

"Harry," Professor Snape said as Draco walked away. "Where is Draco going?"

"He said something about Dumbledore forgetting something," Harry said.

" _Professor_ Dumbledore, Harry," Professor Snape said. "We must show proper respect."

Harry clung to Professor Snape's elbow and let the professor lead him to the infirmary. Professor Snape got Moody strapped into a bed with slightly more magical restraints than Harry had ever seen in his life, and Harry stumbled to a bed and flopped facedown into it. He had actually managed to doze off when Professor Dumbledore came in, and a few moments behind him was Draco, leading Cornelius Fudge. The Minister for Magic had his lime-green bowler hat in his hands, and he was twirling it nervously. 

"Harry, you must understand," Professor Dumbledore said. Harry sat up and stared at Moody.

Except that it wasn't Moody anymore. The magical eye had come out, and the wooden leg had fallen off. In Moody's robes lay a blonde man, pale and freckled, disarrayed and thin. He seemed shrunken in Moody's clothes, but Harry was sure he recognized him. It took a moment before he realized who he was looking at. He had seen the man in Dumbledore's pensieve. Bartemius Crouch Junior lay in the infirmary bed.

Not far away from him, in another bed, Madam Pomfrey was fussing over the real Moody. Clumps of his hair were missing, roughly torn out, by the looks of them, and he had a drawn look about him, shivering under several layers of blankets. 

Professor Snape had brought Winky the house-elf up to the infirmary, and she was practically trembling on the floor. Harry sat up. "Stay seated, Harry," Professor Snape said.

Draco hurried to Harry's side and grabbed his hand, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on Crouch. Harry looked around and winced. Lucius Malfoy's body lay stretched out on a bed at the far end of the room, and Draco was studiously avoiding looking at him.

Professor Snape was just standing up from Barty Crouch Junior's bedside, his wand coming up. "Ennervate," he said calmly, and Barty Crouch Junior's eyes opened. Professor Dumbledore stepped forward immediately. 

"Can you hear me?" Dumbledore asked quietly.

"Yes," Crouch muttered.

"I would like you to tell us," Dumbledore went on in deadly soft tones, "how did you escape from Azkaban?"

Crouch drew in a deep, shaky breath, and spoke in flat, expressionless tones. "My mother saved me. She knew she was dying. She persuaded my father to rescue me as a last favor to her. He loved her as he had never loved me. He agreed. they came to visit me. they gave me a draft of Polyjuice Potion containing one of my mother's hairs. She took a draft of Polyjuice Potion containing one of my hairs. We took on each other's appearance."

Winky was trembling, shaking her head. "Say no more, Master Barty, say no more, you is getting your father into trouble!"

But Crouch took another deep breath and continued on in the same flat tone. "The dementors are blind. They sensed one healthy, one dying person entering Azkaban. They sensed one healthy, one dying person leaving it. My father smuggled me out, disguised as my mother, in case any prisoners were watching through their doors. 

"My mother died a short while afterward in Azkaban. She was careful to drink Polyjuice until the end. She was buried under my name and bearing my appearance. Everyone believed her to be me."

Dumbledore continued to question Crouch, and he went on in that same flat tone. He told of being kept prisoner under an invisibility cloak in his home, of being guarded by a house-elf and by the Imperius Curse. As Winky complained about the secrets being revealed, Crouch told of the close call that had led to Bertha Jorkins being subjected to a memory charm, and about his escape during the Quidditch World Cup, an escape during which he had pilfered Harry's wand and used it to set the Dark Mark in the sky above the forest, an escape which was finally foiled by the merest of chances, and for which Winky took the full measure of blame. 

"Now it was just father and I, alone in the house," Crouch said. "And then... and then..." an insane grin stretched his features ghoulishly. "My master came for me."

Minister Fudge had watched with rapt attention the whole time, but at those words he flinched. Professor Snape loomed up behind the Minister for Magic, and he turned his attention back to Crouch.

"He arrived at our house late one night in the arms of his servant Wormtail."

"And who is Wormtail?" Draco asked, suddenly animated as Harry had rarely seen before. 

"Peter Pettigrew," Crouch said.

"Now see here!" Fudge cried, but Dumbledore hushed him.

"How is Pettigrew still alive?" Draco asked. Harry was surprised to hear a sort of cold fury in Draco's voice.

"He framed Sirius Black for the crime that had him sent to Azkaban. Pettigrew was the Potters' secret-keeper. He betrayed their secret to my master. Black came after him for revenge. He let himself be caught on a crowded street. He yelled that Black betrayed the Potters. He cast a spell to make an explosion. Pettigrew is an animagus. He cut off his finger, turned into a rat. He fled, lived with a wizard family for years. They never knew. He escaped last year. He went to find my master."

Fudge stared, goggle-eyed, at Crouch. "It can't be."

"I assure you it is so," Professor Dumbledore said. "You have been chasing the wrong man, Cornelius, and now I have the dubious honor of proving it to you." To Crouch he said, "What happened after that?"

"Pettigrew went to Albania. he knew my master was there. He helped him capture Bertha Jorkins. They tortured her until they broke through her memory charms. They learned I was still alive. She told them my father kept me imprisoned to prevent me from seeking my master. And so my master knew that I was still his faithful servant--perhaps the most faithful of all. My master conceived a plan, based upon the information Bertha had given him. He needed me. He arrived at our house near midnight. My father answered the door."

The light in Crouch's eyes had reached a feverish intensity, but Winky had fallen silent, too appalled to speak. 

"It was very quick. My father was placed under the Imperius Curse by my master. Now my father was the one imprisoned, controlled. My master forced him to go about his business as usual, to act as though nothing was wrong. and I was released. I awoke. I was myself again, alive as I hadn't been in years."

"And what did Lord Voldemort ask you to do?" Dumbledore asked. 

"He asked me whether I was ready to risk everything for him. I was ready. It was my dream, my greatest ambition, to serve him, to prove myself to him. He told me he needed to place a faithful servant at Hogwarts. a servant who would guide Harry Potter through the Triwizard Tournament without appearing to do so. A servant who would watch over Harry Potter. Ensure he reached the Triwizard Cup. Turn the cup into a portkey, which would take the first person to touch it to my master. But first--"

"You needed Alastor Moody," said Dumbledore. His blue eyes were blazing, but his voice remained calm. 

Again, Crouch went on, but Harry's attention began to fade again. Draco wrapped his arms around Harry as Crouch told of the struggle to subdue Moody, the deception, forcing the Goblet of fire to accept Harry as the champion of some fictional fourth school. He told of the cold-blooded hunting down and murder of his own father, and of trapping the cup to take Harry away, and then, Professor Dumbledore turned to Cornelius Fudge.

Fudge was pale and quiet. "But those are the words of a madman," he quailed. "You can't honestly believe--"

"Give me some Veritaserum, Professor Snape," Harry interrupted.

Professor Snape turned to stare at Harry, and then at Dumbledore. Almost imperceptibly, the Headmaster nodded, and Professor Snape stepped forward with a clear glass vial. He tipped two or three drops of totally colorless liquid onto Harry's tongue. Harry swallowed. Suddenly, the idea of lying seemed utterly repulsive. He swallowed again, and then, loudly and clearly, he spoke.

"Every word he said is true, so far as I know, Minister Fudge," Harry said. "I saw Voldemort rise again tonight. He's back. And Sirius Black is definitely innocent. I wouldn't be alive right now if it wasn't for Lucius Malfoy, he saved me from Voldemort, and Voldemort killed him for it, as cruelly as possible. Voldemort is back. You can't deny it, Minister Fudge."

Fudge paled even further, and all at once, he seemed to collapse, leaned backwards until his knees buckled over a bed. He sobbed heavily into his hands, and Professor Dumbledore spoke quietly to Madam Pomfrey. The old matron frowned, but hurried off.

Draco squeezed Harry tighter, and Harry whispered to him, "I'm so sorry, Draco. I never meant for anyone to die in my place, and certainly not your father. I love you, Draco."

Draco wept into Harry's shoulder. "I love you, Harry. It's not your fault."

Professor Dumbledore waved his wand, and the bed Harry was sitting on expanded out until it was wide enough for both Harry and Draco. They curled up together, Harry whispering to Draco, until Madam Pomfrey arrived with Sirius padding along after her. She gave Harry and Draco both a potion, and they both drank their potions without complaint. Harry was barely able to keep his eyes open until he finished his, and Harry and Draco both dropped off into a deep, dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So by now you've probably figured out goal #3 of this fiction, which is to exonerate Sirius for later plot-complicating goodness. Much of this was lifted directly out of the EIGHTY THREE SEPTILLION WORDS that Barty Crouch Jr. blathers in the book, but the end result is almost entirely different, thanks to some enforced stubbornness and a bit of Slytherining. 
> 
> We're in the home stretch for part 1! Part 2 can be expected after I actually get around to finishing my NaNoWriMo, which shouldn't take too terribly long, and which I will probably alternate with other writing projects which you may or may not find enjoyable, and which are quite likely to sometimes be very, very slashy. I may even get bored enough to try some Porn Without Plot, possibly Funny Porn Without Plot (because dammit, if I can make two dudes fucking simultaneously hot and hilarious, I'm going to bloody well do it).
> 
> All of that is future concerns, though, as there are at least three more chapters of this to go, probably more. 
> 
> So, any votes on if Rita Skeeter should starve to...
> 
> wow. At least wait until I've finished typing to kill her off. (please note that i will not actually be taking votes on whether or not to kill Rita Skeeter, as she is far too useful a character)
> 
> anyways, I'm sure we're all looking forward to exactly how crazy this can get. It's only going to get loonier from here.
> 
> Hm. Loonier. That reminds me: part 2, i get to write Luna Lovegood. that makes me happy.


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might be getting another three chapters after this. It depends on if I want to detail the humiliation of Rita Skeeter.

Sirius Black was sitting at Harry's bedside the next morning. Harry awoke before Draco, which he thought was probably a good thing. He had barely enough time to glance around before he was embraced by his godfather, but the quick glance he got told him that Lucius Malfoy had been moved while he and Draco slept. Harry breathed a sigh of relief into Sirius' shoulder. 

"Harry, what's wrong?" Sirius asked. 

"Plenty," Harry said quietly. Sirius held him out at arm's length and Harry looked around more. Barty Crouch Junior had been moved as well, and the real Alastor Moody looked much better than he had the previous night. He seemed to be sleeping naturally in a bed across the room from them. Sirius himself had obviously been given the chance to scrub himself really clean. His hair had actual volume, instead of hanging lank at the sides of his face, and he smelled vaguely of cinnamon, instead of exuding a faint aroma of dog as he usually did. The frown etched onto his face looked much less fearsome than it might have done if he had been as filthy as usual.

"They moved Lucius Malfoy," Harry said quietly for a change of subject. 

"They didn't think it would be good for Draco to wake up in the same room as his father's...." Sirius trailed off.

Harry's hand drifted down to Draco's head, his fingers stroking gently through his lover's hair. "I guess not. I suppose I'll have a funeral to attend."

"I suppose so," Sirius agreed.

They were both silent then, for quite some time, until Draco's shoulders began to shake. Harry slipped back down next to him and wrapped him up in a hug. 

"Harry," Draco sobbed quietly.

Harry kissed the back of Draco's head. "All right, Draco," he said. "I love you." His hand found Draco's, and their fingers laced together. Draco rolled, crying openly into Harry's shoulder until he was spent. As Draco's sobs finally subsided, Harry thought--somewhat disloyally, he felt, though he knew it was absolutely true--that with the grime and blood of the previous night still clinging to them, he and Draco were about as gross as they could be. From the way his arm felt, someone had healed it.

Sirius touched Harry's shoulder, and Draco's eyes opened. He watched Sirius for a moment, and then Sirius cleared his throat.

"Draco," Sirius said.

Draco sat up, and Harry sat next to him.

"Draco," Sirius said again, "I owe you my freedom. I really... I have no excuse for how I treated you before. You're my godson's boyfriend, and I ought to respect that. Harry can make his own choices, and I think he might be better at making them than I am. I don't have long, there's a lot that I have to do, but I wanted to be here when you woke up, to apologize, and to tell you that you'll be welcome in my home any time."

"That wouldn't be Grimmauld Place, would it?" Draco asked.

Sirius sighed. "For the moment, I'm afraid so," he said. "I'd really like to get rid of it, but of course, I can do no such thing."

Draco winced. "Get rid of it? But it's such a beautiful house!"

"I hate that place," Sirius said. "It was never a home for me."

Draco shook his head, but his heart clearly wasn't in arguing with Sirius' apparent disgust with his home.

"How do you know Sirius' home?" Harry asked after Sirius had made an apologetic goodbye.

"I used to go there, a very long time ago," Draco said. "My Great Aunt Walburga lived there. We were never really close, but I remember loving her house. It was dark and spooky and... well, Professor Snape's office sort of reminds me of it."

Harry blinked. "Oh, joy." That pulled a smile out of Draco, and Harry considered it a job well done.

+----+

When Harry stumbled into the Gryffindor common room that afternoon, nobody seemed to want to look at him. Professor Dumbledore had given him the prize money for winning the Triwizard Tournament, and rumor had it that he had gone to the graveyard to retrieve the Triwizard Cup, but hadn't found it. It struck Harry as odd that after everything else, Voldemort would take the trophy, but then, he tried not to be too good at understanding madmen.

Hermione stood up from where she sat next to Weasley. He watched her with narrowed eyes as she walked up to Harry, and she stopped in front of him, nervous energy practically boiling off of her.

"Professor Dumbledore says You-Know-Who is back," she said. "The Daily Prophet says so, too. They say you saw him come back. Is it true?"

Harry swallowed. He looked Hermione in the eye. "It's true."

"Did he really kill Lucius Malfoy?" Weasley said.

"He did," Harry said. "Lucius got me out just before he died of his injuries." Harry stepped around Hermione, started towards the dormitory, and then turned back, abruptly. "I'm sorry, Hermione," he said, too quietly for anyone else to hear. "I know it's too little, too late."

Hermione sighed. "I don't want to fight with you, Harry. Can't we just..."

Harry nodded. "Yeah," he said, and he walked away, up to the dormitory.

Harry sat down on his bed. There was a jar sitting on Harry's bed. A beetle was crawling around inside of the jar with a twig and leaves, and a piece of Spello-tape on the jar had the name "Rita" written on it in marker. The handwriting was Draco's. Harry picked up the jar and peered at the beetle inside. It was quite a fat beetle, and there were markings around her antennae that looked like...

Harry found his first real smile since Lucius had died. "Hello, Rita. Can't imagine you're too happy. How about we go and see Draco?"

The beetle--Rita--clicked against the side of the jar. None too gently, Harry took the jar down through the common room, through the castle, and found Blaise near the Slytherin common room, headed that way.

"Blaise!" Harry called out.

Blaise turned around. "Harry!"

"Could you go and get Draco?" Harry held up the jar. "I think we've got some blackmailing to do."

Blaise's eyes narrowed at the sight, and then he grinned. "Of course. I'll bet that takes his mind right off of things."

Blaise hurried away, and Harry waited against the wall, jar in hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, there ain't nothin' like listening to Super Mario 64 music and writing slash fiction.
> 
>  
> 
> Like a boss.


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck you, Rita. Fuck you.

"Oh. Her."

Harry would have been exasperated, but Draco had just lost his father and he could be expected to have forgotten about leaving a (horrible) journalist on Harry's bed for two days. It wasn't as though she had died, and it wasn't as though she didn't deserve a bit of misery, but really...

"Did you forget that you left a reporter on my bed?" Harry waved the jar, none too gently, and Rita flopped around the interior with her little stick.

Draco stared at the jar, and his eyes went wide. "I did! We ought to make sure she's fed, I suppose."

"What does she eat?" Harry asked.

"Oh, I asked Professor Sprout about that," Draco said. "That's the sort of leaves she eats. Has she made any progress?"

Harry peered into the jar. There was a small circle taken out of the leaf on the twig. "Yeah, she's eaten a bit."

Draco came up close and wrapped his arms around Harry. Harry had been meaning to talk about what to do with Rita, but seeing as how she seemed to have everything she needed, he held Draco close instead, comforting his boyfriend. Draco buried his face in Harry's hair. "I love you," he whispered after a while, in tones that told Harry he was saying it because he needed to say it if he wasn't going to cry.

Harry massaged Draco's back. Through school robes and a jumper and a shirt, little could be felt of his form. Harry kissed Draco's temple, letting the jar swing down tap against the stone wall. "I love you, too," he said.

Draco held onto him for a while, and when Harry thought it was time to actually move a bit, he kissed his forehead. "We do need to figure out what to do with her. As funny as it would be to have a pet reporter, she'd get out eventually. I know being an unregistered animagus is illegal, and I get that you were going to use it against her, but you can't just let that fall by the side and keep her in there for ages."

Draco glared at the jar, his anger plain on his face for the moment. "I don't see why. She was absolutely horrible to you."

"She's still a person," Harry said. He lifted the jar up to look in on Rita. She had fallen on her back and her legs were waving helplessly in the air. He shook the jar so that she fell back upright. "Sort of," he added.

"If she went missing now, it would probably be blamed on the Dark Lord," Draco said.

"Draco!" Harry scolded, and Draco had the decency to blush a bit. Harry refused to find it cute, just this once. "We have to let her out, but we can still lay into her with what we know."

Draco nodded, and, seeming to come to a decision, he snatched the jar out of Harry's hand. He walked quickly, and Harry followed him to the same little bar room where they always went for privacy. Draco popped open the jar and raised his wand. Harry followed suit, and Rita buzzed out of the jar and alighted on the bar. As soon as she was settled, she reverted to her human form.

"Expelliarmus!" Harry shouted, and Rita Skeeter went over backwards, several objects--her wand included--flying in Harry's general direction. He put his foot down on her wand as she peeked over the counter.

"Oh, hello, Mister Potter," she said. Her hair was disarrayed, she looked as though she was dying for a proper meal, and her glasses were askew. Her three gold teeth seemed to glint more dully than before. "Fancy seeing you here. And Mister Malfoy. Well, thanks for letting me out of the jar. I suppose that's lesson learned, then. I'll just take my wand and go."

Draco's wand didn't waver at all. 

"Right," Skeeter said. "You can't blame a girl for trying." She looked around. "Can I just say I didn't actually mean to catch the two of you in here?"

Harry winced as he recalled flicking a bug off of his robe the night of the Yule Ball. Suddenly, he found himself recalling every stray bug he had ever failed to kill. "That's disgusting. I'm killing every bug that gets anywhere near me from now on."

Skeeter frowned. "That's not really called for. And when you lock me in a jar, I can't really help seeing other people going at it, you know, if they're nearby, so you can't be mad at me for knowing all about your roommates. How did it feel when Weasley and Granger started--"

"That's none of your business," Harry said, though, privately, he was impressed that Weasley had had the fortitude to actually move on Hermione, and in the dormitory, no less.

"What about that charming interracial couple that bent each other over Weasley's bed?"

Draco made a face. Harry made sure to file that image away for later perusal. 

"Did they have anything to do with you two getting together?" Skeeter pressed.

"All right, hold it," Draco said. "You're going to do some things for us. First, you're not going to write about anyone under the age of majority without us asking you to first."

Skeeter stared at him like he'd told her to eat one of his socks.

"That is the worst--"

"Second," Draco went on, "You're going to write several articles for me. I think... let's see, what shall we have her write? I think we'll have her write one about Sirius. Right now."

"Sirius?" Skeeter said. 

"Sirius Black," Harry said. "You're going to write about--"

"You're going to write that he's innocent. Or at least that you think he's innocent. And we're going to sit here and wait while you write it."

Skeeter's face fell. "You're asking me to throw away my career," she said.

Draco leaned forward. "Spin it," he said.

+----+

The article came out the next day. Harry managed to get Draco to laugh at the hedging language she had used. Pretty much everyone was totally bewildered by Skeeter's bizarre article. She had started from the assumption that Sirius was innocent, but presumed guilty, and had gone from there on what Harry thought might have been her most glorious foray into creative journalism yet. Her logical leaps were so entertaining that the Weasley Twins spent all of breakfast loudly quoting the article back and forth to each other.

Of course, the article wouldn't have gone through if she hadn't been instructed to inform her editor that she would lose almost all effectiveness as a reporter if it wasn't published exactly as written. The sullen letter Harry got from her at lunch was really just icing on the cake, but his amusement was significantly damped both by Draco's continuing depression and by the arrival of a letter from Narcissa Malfoy officially requesting his presence at Lucius' funeral the next day. Harry tried to find robes that would work for a funeral that evening, but he didn't really have anything properly somber to wear, as his dress robes from the Yule Ball were only slightly more appropriate to a funeral than a clown suit.

He needn't have worried. When Professor McGonagall came to take him to the funeral in the morning, she was carrying a set of dark, somber robes. "Compliments of Narcissa Malfoy," she said quietly as Harry took them. "It will be you, Draco, Miss Greengrass, and Mister Zabini, as well as Professors Dumbledore and Snape at the funeral. There will also be some important figures from Wizarding society, but I must warn you that attendance at the funeral will be sparse at best. It seems that the heroism of Lucius Malfoy's demise does not eclipse the fact that he was a Death Eater."

Harry nodded sleepily, and went to go shower and change, then Professor McGonagall took him down to the entrance hall. Professor Dumbledore was waiting for him, and Professor Snape escorted Draco, Blaise and Daphne in as Harry stepped up to Dumbledore. Draco was leaning slightly towards Professor Snape, but when he saw Harry he hurried forward and embraced him.

"It's going to get better," Harry reassured him, stroking his hair.

Draco didn't respond right away, and when he leaned back, the old mask was in place, the look of detachment that he hadn't worn around Harry in months. For a fleeting moment, Harry worried, and then he thought about all the people Draco was going to have to talk to at the funeral, people that must have been sorted into Slytherin in Hogwarts, and for very good reason.

People that would eat him alive if he showed enough weakness to truly mourn. Harry kissed Draco gently and took his hand. "Let's go," he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's what they did to Rita Skeeter. It's a multipartate blackmailing scheme. Rita is now Draco's bitch, and they both know it. Hermione used it to try to reform her a little, but Draco is a wiser man than that. He knows she's better as a harnessed weapon than as a pissed-off reporter with a vendetta, and turning the most widely-read reporter in the country into your personal mouthpiece is about as Slytherin as you can get, besides occasionally allowing your too-Gryffindor-to-think-of-it-on-his-own boyfriend to talk through her sometimes, which, of course, Draco will also be doing.
> 
> Harry is much more approving of this, because, well, look at what she did to Hagrid. Combine Harry's occasional bursts of super-anger with the slightly dark tendencies he gets from hanging around with Draco so much and blackmail is hardly a stretch. Draco really brings out the Slytherin in Harry.
> 
> I think that's probably one of my favorite things to see in Harry/Draco, is the moments where Harry Slytherins it up. For almost precisely this reason, a lot of the more argumentative relationships I've seen portrayed between the two of them ring a little false. If Draco doesn't grow bold and Harry doesn't learn to get sneaky, the relationship seems unhealthy. There's an exchange between them when they're well-written, and it really does change the characters a lot. Yes, you can expect some caps-lock Harry in Part 2, but you should also expect don't-get-mad-get-even Harry, which I expect will cause all sorts of problems, since he won't be really good at it yet. Really, one of the most terrifying forces in the Harry Potter world is a take-charge Slytherin, and that's what Harry and Draco are going to end up being by the end of this.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you're all looking forward to the next chapter, when we put the "fun" into "funeral".


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mmmm... eggnog tea and a candy cane. Life is good. Let's write about gay wizards!

The really disgusting thing was that no one at the funeral had ever been accused of being a Death Eater, aside from Professor Snape. It was so blatant a display of alliances that Harry was forced to accept that there was a war on. 

no one had actually said the word "war" yet, but that was what it was. Crime sprees didn't leave men with slowly expanding suppurating wounds in their chests, holes bored clean through them by magic darker than anything Harry had ever heard of. Lucius Malfoy hadn't died to death of a crime victim; he had died the death of a soldier.

Draco gripped Harry's hand as they stepped onto the grounds of Malfoy Manor together for the first time, entering with the other mourners and trying to ignore the vanguard of aurors around them. Harry would have felt safer knowing that someone on the expansive property could repel Voldemort with absolute certainty. Professor Dumbledore was a small comfort, but the rumor that Voldemort feared him was one that Harry didn't exactly trust his life to.

Lucius was being buried in the Malfoy graveyard, and that was where they found Narcissa Malfoy waiting for them. Harry and Draco were near the rear of the little procession, and Narcissa embraced Blaise comfortingly, then spoke quietly to Daphne for a few moments, then she looked up to see Harry and Draco. It was only at that moment that Harry realized Professor Snape was behind him and Draco, and standing as though he had never felt anything but protective affection for either of them. When Harry turned to look at the Potions Master, he saw something that was three very precise steps removed from defiance on his face. He turned back to Narcissa, and she stepped forwards. For a moment, Harry feared some sort of tense confrontation, a shouting match or a sharp slap, whether to himself of to Draco, he wasn't sure, but then Narcissa Malfoy gathered her son in her arms, hugged him tightly and cried so that her tears soaked into his hair. 

"Draco," she said. "I'm so sorry. You will always find shelter here. Everything that has been yours, will be yours. Your father gave that back to you before he died, and I would have given it back long before if he would only let me."

Draco muttered into her ear, too quietly for Harry to hear, and Narcissa looked up sharply at him. She let go of her son and covered the distance between her and Harry with two easy steps. Harry felt the urge to shrink back into Professor Snape's robes. Whatever shelter he thought he could take from the professor, however, was wholly unnecessary. Narcissa reached out and gathered Harry into her arms in a perfectly unexpected hug. "Harry, I'm so sorry for... for everything. The way my husband treated you--"

"He saved my life," Harry said.

Narcissa stepped back, holding him at arm's length. 

"He was horrible to me," Harry went on, as quietly as he could. "But he saved my life. And he did it for Draco. I suppose that's just why I'll have to live from now on. For Draco."

Draco's eyes were shining with unshed tears when he took Harry's hand again and they sat in chairs under the small pavilion that had been set up for the funeral. "Harry, that was a bit much," Draco said.

"I meant it," Harry said. He curled his arm completely around Draco's tying them even closer together. "I'm doing everything for you."

Draco began to sob into Harry's shoulder.

A rangy, officious-looking wizard stood up at the closed casket and began to drone on about Lucius Malfoy's life and accomplishments, his charitable donations, his heroic death, all the while casually glossing over his being a Death Eater. Narcissa spoke briefly, but before she could say anything meaningful, she broke down into tears. When she was done, Professor Snape stepped up.

He cleared his throat. "I had the privilege of being in Hogwarts together with Lucius Malfoy. He was a friend to me, and a protector. In my youth, other students would bully me, but no one dared to misbehave in front of Lucius. He was a prefect, but he took his duties seriously. Students from any house were treated the same by him, and this surprised many of my classmates. Unlike most of those present, I will not ignore the mistakes Lucius Malfoy made. He was an ally of the Dark Lord during his initial rise, and he came at the call of the Dark Lord only a few days ago, but he could easily have survived that summons. Instead, Lucius Malfoy chose to do what was right, instead of what was easy. I do not pretend that his act of heroism expiates his crimes, but I believe that if he were alive at this moment, he would seek to do all in his power to atone for his mistakes. Lucius knew that he was likely to die in leaving the service of the Dark Lord. He did so anyway, and that is one of the bravest actions any man can take."

Professor Snape stepped down as though he had only just realized that he was talking about his feelings. He gave Harry a slight nod, and gestured at the podium. Harry stood, and when no one objected, he squeezed Draco's hand once, then walked up to the podium.

"Er," Harry said, which certainly didn't qualify as an auspicious beginning, but then he began to collect his thoughts, and to call of his Gryffindor bravery. "I didn't really know Lucius Malfoy. I don't think I ever would have got on really well with him. We were too different. But I've learned that everyone is more complicated than I thought over the last year. I, er..." Harry flagged again, and then swallowed and took a deep breath. "One of the last things Lucius Malfoy said was that he didn't save me for me. He saved me for Draco, knowing he would die for it." Harry's hands gripped the podium. "Er... I respect that more than if he had saved me for any other reason. He died for his son's happiness. I think he died for his son's love. And quite apart from how I feel about Draco, I think that was worth dying for. Not just Draco's love, but... a father should be willing to die for his son. I've never known my parents, but I know they died for me, and now... er... Lucius Malfoy's done the same thing for his son. So Lucius Malfoy must have been a good father, even if he could be... hard... sometimes..." Harry glanced up at Draco, then back down at the podium under his hands. "And... er... he told me to fight. Another one of the last things he said was to fight Voldemort, to protect Draco. I'm going to do that." Harry ignored the way most of the watchers twitched at Voldemort's name. "I'm going to fight, in order to make sure that no one has to suffer at Voldemort's hands, because fighting this war is the best way that any of us can honor Lucius Malfoy's memory."

Harry turned red as he hurried back to sit next to Draco. Other speeches went by, although Professor Dumbledore didn't make one, and then they lowered Lucius' coffin into the grave. 

As it started to rain, Draco kissed Harry on the cheek. "I'm going to make sure that Skeeter publishes what you said about my dad."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry, you are saccharine. You are oozing excessive, drippy sentiment, and it is _getting_ on my _carpet_ , and you are _going_ to leave a _stain_.
> 
> Seriously, Harry is getting gooeyness all over the place. It's gross.


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What, you didn't think I'd send Harry home without some straight-up smut, did you?
> 
>  
> 
> Oh, ye of little faith...

Hufflepuff won the House cup. It occurred to Harry, sitting at the Gryffindor table and watching the Hufflepuffs celebrate, that he had been far too busy to think about who was ahead in house points for most of the year. The fact was that after everything that had happened over the last couple of months, he was exhausted. Draco was only slowly getting over the blow of his father's death, and everyone was constantly asking about Voldemort, and Harry had had to give dozens of interviews, and two of those had involved a very sullen Rita Skeeter, who was exhausting enough when she was happy to be doing a story. Now that she was Draco's pet reporter, she was even worse.

The Weasleys had been no picnic, either. The twins kept apologizing for Ron, saying it was time for unity and cooperation (a theme on which Dumbledore was expounding quite enthusiastically while Harry pretended to pay attention to what was going on), and Ginny seemed to have decided that the boy about whom all the Chosen-One rumors were starting up really shouldn't be with a Death Eater's son. 

All told, Harry's chicken was starting to look like an excellent pillow.

"You look dead on your feet, Harry," Neville said helpfully from beside Harry.

"Dead on his arse, he's sitting down," Dean said.

"I'm going to be very glad when I get into a nice, warm bed. One with Draco in it, for preference." Harry picked at his dinner, and he looked up at the Slytherin table. Draco smiled at him, and just seeing a real, genuine smile on his love's face was enough to get him through the rest of the meal.

He still collapsed quite thoroughly into bed, though.

+----+

Packing was a relatively quick procedure, with a few muttered spells getting everything stuffed into Harry's trunk. He rushed it a bit to get a nice, long shower in, and he slathered on what was probably entirely too much of the cologne Draco had given him for Christmas (the scent actually left him frustratingly aroused, because the scent of Draco--just Draco, his sweat and his skin--overpowered the other scents sometimes), and then he went to retrieve Hedwig from the owlery, and so he passed the time until he was jammed onto the Hogwarts Express. Neville, Dean, and Seamus seemed all ready to share Harry's compartment with him and Draco, but the instant Draco reached Harry, he made it plain that he had other plans. Draco kissed Harry, hard, pulled Hedwig's cage out of his hands, and handed it to Dean.

"Hold onto that for us, will you Thomas?" Draco said.

"What are you up to?" Neville said.

"I'm up to not going to see my boyfriend for at least a week," Draco said. "So, I'm up to finding a compartment that's deserted, and if there isn't one, I'm up to making one."

Harry buried his face in Draco's neck and got a deep whiff of green tea and oak. "You're wearing something I haven't smelled before," Harry said.

"Do you like it?" Draco asked, pulling Harry ahead into the train.

"I love it," Harry said.

Draco led him through the train, prodding aside first years and trading ruthlessly on Harry's reputation to move anyone larger out of the way. It was amazing how he did it, making sure that Harry was placed so that he was obvious, and so that he obviously wanted to get through. Draco finally found the compartment he was looking for and dragged Harry into it. He had his wand out the instant they were inside, and Harry heard him mutter several spells to keep people out.

That done, Draco started in on Harry's clothes. Robes vanished with almost alarming speed, and shirts and trousers weren't far behind. Draco pushed Harry up against the wall, and they slowly slid down together until Draco was on his knees between Harry's legs. They kissed, deeply and longingly, and Draco pulled away the last remnants of Harry's clothes, socks going one direction and his pants going another. 

Draco's hand reached down, and he found Harry's shaft, stiff and more than ready. He started stroking his lover.

"Oh, god, yes, Draco," Harry growled, and he pulled Draco down even closer, hands on his hips, drawing him in and getting rid of the last dregs of clothing he wore as well. Draco evidently appreciated it, because he immediately dropped down and sucked Harry into his mouth. At that precise moment, the train started to move, and Harry just shuddered with pleasure at the thought that Draco's mouth could move his whole world like that.

He stretched his legs out and fumbled around until he found his wand, conjured a bit of lubrication into his hand, and started working at Draco's backside. He teased his lover a bit, sliding slippery fingers up and down Draco's back, slowly bringing them closer to their goal, and finally sliding a finger across Draco's hole. He bent down, and surprised himself with his own flexibility as he managed to plant a kiss on Draco's head.

It was difficult to think of quidditch, or something else equally unsexy, while he was getting Draco ready to be fucked, but Harry closed his eyes and made himself do it, finally settling on running through other ways he could have faced off against the dragon in November. He was up to creative uses of the Imperius Curse when Draco pulled his mouth off of Harry's penis and hissed, "will you please fuck me now?" in a tone that suggested he'd been ready for a couple of minutes already.

Harry pushed Draco over backwards and entered him in one long, slow, smooth motion, and as though he had done it a million times before, he sucked Draco's member into his mouth, buried himself deep in Draco's arse, and began to thrust and to bob his head up and down at the same time.

It hurt his back, just a little bit, but it was more than worth it to hear the noises Draco was making. Harry's orgasm was coming closer, faster, and he redoubled his efforts, and must have hit exactly the right spot inside his lover, because only a moment before Harry lost it and spilled his seed into Draco, Draco groaned and let loose in Harry's mouth.

They came apart after a couple of minutes, and Draco curled his arm around Harry. 

"I didn't know you could do that," he whispered.

"Neither did I," Harry said. "Nice thing about shagging a Gryffindor: we try new things."

+----+

All too soon, the Hogwarts Express pulled up to Platform Nine and Three Quarters, and Harry and Draco stepped out together. Draco had made sure they were both immaculate, and Harry was glad of that, but when he saw the newspaper photographs the next day, he would still think that he had looked neat, trim, and freshly-fucked anyways. 

They ignored the photographers, and Harry spotted Narcissa Malfoy. Draco headed for his mother, and Harry came along with him.

"Harry," Narcissa said when they were close enough. "Your speech at the funeral was... well, thank you for speaking so kindly about Lucius. and thank you, also, for... I think we all needed to hear what you had to say."

Harry had no idea what to say, so he just gestured as graciously as possible, and Draco hugged him, kissed him, and hugged him even tighter.

"I'll write to you every day, Harry," Draco said.

"I'll write back," Harry replied. "Only... you might have to have your owl wait for me to send a letter back. The Muggles might not let me use Hedwig."

Draco frowned, and very nearly scowled, and Harry kissed him soothingly, a little peck at the corner of his lips. "It's not going to be for long, and then I'll get to be with you. I love you, Draco."

"I love you too, Harry," Draco said.

Harry gripped his boyfriend's hands, pulled him up so that they stood with their bodies flush against each other. He wanted so much more, to not have to remember Draco, to hold him every night, to have him at his side all the time...

"I'll miss you," Harry murmured. 

"I already miss you," Draco said, and of course it was precisely calculated to make Harry melt.

Harry kissed him again, but finally, he could no longer stay by Draco, and he walked away, gathering his trunk and Hedwig's cage.

The Dursleys waited for him outside of the magical platform. Harry looked at his only living relatives, and he thought of how soon he would be with Draco, of what he was going to do with him when they were alone again...

Harry's sudden smile did more to unsettle the Dursleys than any magic he could have performed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What Harry's doing there at the end of the sex scene is physically possible, even for guys who are just sorta flexible. I've done it.
> 
> It's... fun.
> 
>  
> 
> Anyways, that's the last chapter of part 1. You can expect part 2 to start up sometime after Christmas, probably, with plenty of Caps Lock Harry, and a bit of Cold Slytherin Fury Harry, and possibly even the occasional appearance by Sensible, Rational Harry.
> 
> So, any thoughts on whether Harry should make prefect this time around?


End file.
